CHARLES  E.  YOUNG 


■ 


/ 


DINGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

IN  1865 


A  Narrative  of  Actual  Events 


By  CHARLES  E.  YOUNG 


GENEVA,  N.  Y. 
1912 


COPYRIGHT,    1912 
BY    CHARLES    E.    YOUNG 


Press  of  W.  F.  Humphrey,  Geneva,  N.  Y. 
H.  DeF.  Patterson,  Illustrator,  Geneva,  X.  Y. 


PREFACE 

I  present  this  narrative  of  actual  events 
on  a  trip  across  the  plains  to  Denver, 
Colorado,  in  1865  and  of  life  in  the  Far  West 
in  the  later  sixties. 

An  interesting  and  valuable  feature  is  a 
map  of  the  country,  made  in  1865,  by 
Henry  Bowles  of  Boston,  showing  the  old 
Platte  River  and  Smoky  Hill  Trails  of  that 
day  before  there  was  a  railroad  west  of 
the  Missouri  River. 

Everything  is  told  in  a  plain  but  truthful 
manner,  and  this  little  volume  is  submitted 
to  the  reader  for  approval  or  criticism. 

Chas.  E.  Young 
July,  1912 


913182 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  I — Young  Man,  Go  West 
Chapter  II — Arrival  at  Fort  Carney 
Chapter  III — An  Attack  by  the  Indians 
Chapter  IV — Denver  in  1865 
Chapter  V — A  Proof  of  Markmanship 
Chapter  VI — On  to  Leavenworth 
Chapter  VII — A  Plucky  German 


CHAPTER  I 
" YOUNG   MAN,    GO   WEST" 

ARLY  in  1859  gold  was  discovered  in 
Colorado,  and  Horace  G-ieelsy.  the 
well  known  writer  and  a  power 
throughout  the  country  both 
before  and  during  the  Civil 
War,  made,  in  the  interest  of 
the  New  York  Tribune,  of 
which  he  was  editor,  an  overland  trip  to 
Denver  by  the  first  stage  line  run  in  that 
day.  He  started  from  Leavenworth,  Kan- 
sas, and  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Rich- 
ardson, of  the  Boston  Journal,  was  the  only 
passenger  in  the  coach.  The  trip  was  not  all 
that  could  be  desired,  for  they  met  with 
numerous  hardships  and  many  narrow  escapes, 
as  did  hundreds  of  others  who  had  preceded 
them  over  that  dangerous  trail,  many  never 
reaching  their  destination — having  met  death 
at  the  hands  of  the  cruel  Indians  of  the  plains. 


8  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

During  his  stay  in  Denver  Mr.  Greeley 
wrote  a  number  of  letters  to  the  New  York 
Tribune,  confirming  the  finding  of  gold  in  the 
territory  and  advising  immigration.  The 
people  in  the  East  were  skeptical  in  regard  to 
its  discovery  and  awaited  a  written  statement 
from  him  to.  this  effect. 

At  th<:  close  of  the  war  Mr.  Greeley's  advice 
to  young  men,  through  the  columns  of  his 
paper,  was  to  go  West  and  grow  up  with  the 
country,  and  it  became  a  byword  throughout 
the  State  of  New  York  and  the  Nation, 
' 'Young  man,  go  West  and  grow  up  with  the 
country/ ' 

Could  Mr.  Greeley  have  foreseen  the  num- 
ber of  young  lives  that  were  to  be  sacrificed 
through  his  advice,  I  think  he  would  have 
hesitated  before  giving  it;  yet,  it  was  the  most 
valued  utterance  of  any  public  man  of  that 
day  for  the  settlement  of  the  then  Far  West. 

After  reading  a  number  of  these  letters  in 
the  New  York  Tribune,  I  became  very  enthu- 
siastic over  the  opportunities  that  the  West 
offered  for  the  young  man.  There  was  also  a 
loyal  friend  of  mine  who  became  as  enthusias- 


io  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

tic  over  it  as  myself.  Thus,  while  we  were 
still  so  young  as  to  be  called  boys,  we  made  up 
our  minds  to  follow  Mr.  Greeley's  advice, 
and  "Go  West  and  grow  up  with  the 
country." 

In  making  our  purchases  for  the  trip  we  were 
obliged  to  make  our  plans  known  to  an 
acquaintance,  who  at  once  expressed  a  desire 
to  accompany  us.  After  consultation,  we 
consented  and  at  the  appointed  time,  the  fore 
part  of  July,  1865,  just  at  the  close  of  the  Civil 
War,  we  boarded  a  New  York  Central  train 
at  the  depot  in  Geneva,  N.  Y.,  with  no  thought 
of  the  hardships  and  dangers  we  would  be 
called  upon  to  meet. 

The  first  night  found  us  at  the  Falls  of 
Niagara — the  most  stupendous  production  of 
nature  that  the  country  was  known  to  possess 
at  that  time.  Our  time  was  divided  between 
the  American  and  Canadian  sides,  viewing  the 
grand  spectacle  at  all  hours,  from  the  rising  to 
the  setting  of  the  sun;  and,  awed  by  the 
marvelous  masterpiece  of  grandeur,  we  were 
held  as  if  fascinated  by  its  beauty,  until  we 
were  forced  to  leave  for  the  want  of  food  and 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  II 

to  replenish  our  commissary.  When  we 
boarded  the  cars  to  be  whirled  through  the 
then  wilds  of  Lower  Canada,  we  were  liberally 
supplied  with  the  best  the  country  produced. 
Upon  the  fifth  day  we  rolled  into  Chicago, 
the  cosmopolitan  city  of  the  West.  Two  days 
later  we  reached  Quincy,  111.,  where  we  made 
connection  with  the  old  Hannibal  &  St.  Joe 
Railroad  which  was  to  take  us  through  Mis- 
souri to  Atchison,  Kansas.  Missouri,  after 
the  war,  was  not  an  ideal  state  for  a  law  abid- 
ing citizen,  much  less  for  inexperienced  youths 
of  our  age,  and  we  quickly  realized  that  fact. 
Many  stations  had  their  quota  of  what  was 
termed  the  Missouri  bushwhacker,  or,  more 
plainly  speaking,  outlaws,  who,  during  the 
war  and  for  some  time  after,  pillaged  the  state 
and  surrounding  country,  leaving  in  their 
wake  death  and  destruction.  They  had  be- 
longed to  neither  side  at  war,  but  were  a  set  of 
villians  banded  together  to  plunder,  burn, 
ravage  and  murder  young  and  old  alike;  as 
wicked  a  set  of  villians  as  the  world  has  ever 
known.  At  many  stations  they  would  nearly 
fill  the  car,  making  it  very  unpleasant  for  the 


12  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

passengers.  Their  language  and  insults 
caused  every  one  to  be  guarded  in  conversa- 
tion. The  condition  of  the  road,  however, 
often  gave  us  relief,  as  we  were  obliged  to 
alight  and  walk,  at  times,  when  arriving  at  a 
point  where  ties  or  rails  had  to  be  replaced. 
Its  entire  length  showed  the  carnage  and 
destruction  of  war,  making  travel  slow  and 
dangerous  as  well  as  uncomfortable.  On 
reaching  the  state  of  bleeding  Kansas  and  the 
then  village  of  Atchison  we  were  about  used 
up.  We  at  once  called  at  the  Ben  Holliday 
Stage  Office  and  inquired  the  price  of  a  ticket 
to  Denver,  but  finding  it  to  be  beyond  our 
means,  we  decided  to  go  by  ox  conveyance. 

COMMANCHE  BILL 

We  were  not  long  in  finding  what,  in  those 
days,  was  called  a  tavern,  located  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town.  Having  been  chosen 
spokesman,  I  stepped  up  to  the  rough  board 
counter  and  registered.  We  were  soon  con- 
fronted by  the  toughest  individual  we  had 
yet  seen.  I  pleasantly  bade  him  good  morn- 
ing but  received  no  immediate  recognition, 


DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 


i3 


save  a  wild  stare  from  two  horrible,  bloodshot 
eyes.  I  quickly  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
we  were  up  against  the  real  Western  article, 
nor  was  I  mistaken.  He  didn't  keep  up  waiting 
long,  for  he  soon  roared  out  an  oath  and 
wanted  to  know  where  we  were  from.  After 
telling  him  as  near  as  I  possibly  could,  under 
the  circumstances,  he  again  became  silent. 
His  look  and  brace  of  revolvers  were  not 
reassuring,  to  say  the  least.  He  soon  came 
out  of  his  trance  and  did  not  keep  us  long  in 
suspense,  for  his  next  act  was  to  pull  out  both 
of  his  life-takers,  and,  not  in  very  choice 
language,  introduce  himself  as  Commanche  Bill 
from  Arkansas,  emphasizing  the  Arkansas  by 
letting  the  contents  of  both  of  his  instruments 
of  death  pierce  the  ceiling  of  his  story  and  a 
half  shack.  I  have  wondered  many  times 
since  that  I  am  alive.  We  had  been  told  by  a 
fellow  passenger  that  Atchison  was  a  little 
short  of  Hades,  and  we  were  fast  realizing  that 
our  informer  was  not  far  out  of  the  way;  yet, 
it  was  a  haven  in  comparison  to  other  places  at 
which  we  were  yet  to  arrive.  Commanche 
William,  or  whatever  his  right  name  might 


14  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

have  been,  was  a  different  person  after  his 
forceful  introduction. 

He  began  to  question  me.  He  asked  me  if 
we  had  any  money. 

"Yes." 

"Any  friends?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  then  you  had  better  get  straight  back 
to  them,  for  if  you  remain  in  these  parts  long, 
they  will  be  unable  to  recognize  you.  Where 
are  you  fellows  headed  for,  anyway?" 

"Denver,  Colorado." 

"By  stage?" 

"No,  sir.     By  ox  or  mule  conveyance." 

"You  are  too  light  weight.  No  freighter 
will  hire  you." 

"They  will  or  we'll  walk." 

"You  will  not  walk  far  for  the  Indians 
along  the  Platte  are  ugly.  By  the  way,  do 
you  pards  ever  take  anything?" 

Not  wishing  to  offend  such  a  character,  I 
gave  my  companions  the  wink  and  we  followed 
him  into  the  bar-room  with  the  full  determina- 
tion of  making  a  friend  of  him.  After  all  had 
done  the  sociable  act — of  course  gentlemen 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  15 

only  drink  for  sociability  sake — I  took  him  to 
one  side  purposely  to  draw  him  into  a  little 
private  chat,  and  it  was  not  long  before  his 
self-conceit  had  the  better  of  him.  He 
ordered  grub — as  all  meals  were  called  in  the 
West  in  those  days — for  four,  stating  he  was 
in  need  of  a  bite  himself.  Before  the  meal  had 
been  finished,  I  became  convinced  that  the  old 
fellow  had  a  tender  spot  in  his  makeup,  like  all 
tough  outlaws,  and,  if  one  had  tact  enough  to 
discover  it,  he  might  have  great  influence  over 
him;  otherwise,  we  would  be  obliged  to  sleep 
with  both  eyes  open  and  each  with  his  right 
hand  on  the  butt  of  his  revolver. 

THE   AMERICAN  INDIAN 

The  following  day  was  passed  in  taking  in 
the  town  and  Indian  Reservation,  which  was 
but  a  short  distance  from  the  place.  There  we 
came,  for  the  first  time,  face  to  face  with  the 
American  Indian,  the  sole  owner  of  this  vast 
and  fertile  continent  before  the  paleface 
landed  to  dispute  his  right  of  ownership. 
Foot  by  foot  they  had  been  driven  from  East, 
North  and  South,  until  at  that  time  they  were 


16  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

nearly  all  west  of  the  great  Missouri  River,  or 
River  of  Mud,  as  the  Indians  called  it.  At 
the  suggestion  of  our  landlord,  we  took  with 
us  an  interpreter,  a  few  trinkets,  and  some- 
thing to  moisten  the  old  chief's  lips.  Upon 
our  arrival  we  were  duly  presented  to  the 
chief,  who  invited  us  to  sit  on  the  ground  upon 
fur  robes  made  from  the  pelts  of  different  ani- 
mals, including  the  antelope  and  the  buffalo, 
or  American  bison,  the  monarch  of  the  plains, 
and  each  one  of  us  in  turn  took  a  pull 
at  the  pipe  of  peace.  We  then  made  a 
tour  of  their  lodges.  When  we  returned, 
the  chief  called  his  squaws  to  whom  we 
presented  our  gifts,  which  pleased  them 
greatly.  To  the  old  chief  I  handed  a  bottle 
of  Atchison's  best.  As  he  grasped  it,  a 
smile  stole  over  his  ugly  face,  and  with  a 
healthy  grunt  and  a  broad  grin,  he  handed 
me  back  the  empty  bottle.  Indians  love 
liquor  better  than  they  do  their  squaws. 
In  return  he  gave  me  a  buffalo  robe  which  later 
became  of  great  service.  After  taking  another 
pull  at  the  pipe  of  peace,  we  thanked  him  and 
took  our  departure,  having  no  desire  to  be 


DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL  17 

present  when  Atchison's  invigorator  com- 
menced to  invigorate  his  Indian  brain. 

The  impression  made  by  that  visit  to  a 
supposedly  friendly  tribe,  who  at  that  time 
had  a  peace  treaty  with  the  government,  was 
not  one  of  confidence.  The  noble  red  men,  as 
they  were  called  by  the  Eastern  philanthropist, 
were  as  treacherous  to  the  whites  as  an  ocean 
squall  to  the  navigator.  No  pen  or  picture 
has  or  can  fully  describe  the  cruelty  of  their 
nature. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  reached  our  tavern, 
and  we  found  it  filled  with  a  lawless  band  of 
degenerates,  as  repulsive  as  any  that  ever 
invested  Western  plains  or  canyons  of  the 
Rockies.  We  were  at  once  surrounded  and 
by  a  display  of  their  shooting  irons,  forced  to 
join  in  their  beastly  carnival.  It  was  not  for 
long,  however,  for  a  sign  from  the  landlord 
brought  me  to  his  side.  He  whispered, '  'When 
I  let  my  guns  loose  you  fellows  pike  for  the 
loft."  There  were  no  stairs.  No  sooner  had 
he  pulled  his  life-takers  than  all  the  others 
followed  his  example.  Bullets  flew  in  every 
direction.  \  Clouds  of  smoke  filled  the  room, 


1 8  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

but  we  had  ducked  and  scaled  the  ladder  to 
the  loft  and  safety.  Sleep  was  out  of  the 
question  until  the  early  hours  of  the  morning, 
for  the  night  was  made  hideous  by  blasphem- 
ous language,  howls  of  pain  and  the  ring  of 
revolvers.  The  first  call  for  grub  found  us 
ready  and  much  in  need  of  a  nerve  quieter, 
which  the  old  sinner  laughingly  supplied ;  but 
no  word  from  him  of  the  night's  bloody  work. 
Taking  me  to  one  side,  he  said,  "Take  no 
offence,  but  repeat  nothing  you  hear  or  see  in 
these  parts,  and  strictly  mind  your  own 
business  and  a  fellow  like  you  will  get  into  no 
trouble."  I  thanked  him  and  followed  his 
advice  to  the  letter  during  my  entire  Western 
life. 

THE  FIRST  CAMP 

After  that  night's  experience,  we  decided  to 
pay  our  bill  and  become  acclimated  to  camp 
life.  We  had  taken  with  us  a  tent,  blankets 
and  three  toy  pistols,  the  latter  entirely  useless 
in  that  country,  which  proved  how  ignorant 
we  were  of  Western  ways.  We  were  not  long 
in  finding  a  suitable  camping  spot  a  mile  from 


DANGERS   OF   THE  TRAIL  19 

the  town  and  the  same  distance  from  the  many 
corrals  of  the  great  Western  freighters  and  pil- 
grims, as  the  immigrants  were  called.  For 
miles  we  could  see  those  immense,  white 
covered  prairie  schooners  in  corral  formation. 
Hundreds  of  oxen  and  mules  were  quietly 
grazing  under  the  watchful  eyes  of  their 
herders  in  saddle.  It  was  certainly  a  novel 
sight  to  the  tenderfoot. 

We  soon  had  our  tent  up  and  leaving  one  of 
our  number  in  charge  the  other  two  went  to 
town  for  the  necessary  camp  utensils  and  grub. 
Immediately  on  our  return  supper  was  pre- 
pared and  the  novelty  enjoyed.  After  a  three 
days'  rest  I  started  out  to  make  the  rounds  of 
the  corrals  in  search  of  a  driver's  berth.  All 
freighters  had  a  wagon  boss  and  an  assistant 
who  rightfully  had  the  reputation  of  being 
tyrants  when  on  the  trail,  using  tact  and  dis- 
cretion when  in  camp.  A  revolver  settled  all 
disputes.  On  approaching  them  they  treated 
me  as  well  as  their  rough  natures  would  per- 
mit ;  but  I  did  not  take  kindly  to  any  of  them. 
They  all  told  me  that  I  was  undersized,  and 
too  young  to  stand  the  dangers  and  hardships 


20  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

of  a  trip.     I   returned   to  camp  much  dis- 
appointed but  not  discouraged. 

The  following  morning  we  proceeded  to 
the  large  warehouses  on  the  river  front, 
where  all  Western  freighters  were  to  be  found. 
In  those  days  all  emigrants  and  oxen  and 
mule  trains  with  freight  going  to  the  far 
Western  Territories  would  start  from  either 
Council  Bluffs,  Iowa,  Leavenworth,  Kansas, 
Atchison  or  St.  Joe,  Missouri;  Atchison 
being  the  nearest  point,  a  large  majority 
embarked  from  there.  The  freight  was 
brought  up  the  Missouri  River  in  flat- 
bottom  steam-boats,  propelled  by  a  large 
wheel  at  the  stern,  and  unloaded  on  the 
bank  of  the  river.  The  perishable  goods 
were  placed  in  the  large  warehouses  but 
the  unperishable  were  covered  with  tarpaulin 
and  left  where  unloaded.  They  were 
then  transferred  to  large  white  covered 
prairie  schooners  and  shipped  to  their 
different  points  of  destination  in  trains  of 
from  twenty-five  to  one  hundred  wagons. 
The  rate  for  freighting  depended  on  the 
condition    of  the  Indians  and  ran  from  ten 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  21 

cents  per  pound  up  to  enormous  charges  in 
some  cases. 

SECURING    PASSAGE 

After  making  application  to  several  of 
the  freighters  and  receiving  the  same  reply 
as  from  the  wagon  bosses,  we  went  a  short 
distance  down  the  river  to  the  last  of  the 
warehouses.  On  our  approach  we  discovered 
a  genuine  bullwhacker — as  all  ox  drivers  were 
called  in  that  day — in  conversation  with  a 
short,  stout-built  fellow  with  red  hair  and 
whiskers  to  match.  The  moment  he  be- 
came disengaged  I  inquired  if  he  was  a 
freighter.  He  said  that  he  was  and  that 
he  wanted  more  men.  His  name  was  White- 
head, just  the  opposite  to  the  color  of  his 
hair,  and  as  I  stepped  up  to  him  I  wondered 
what  kind  of  a  disposition  the  combination 
made — whitehead,  redhead.  I  at  once  made 
application  for  a  position  for  the  three  of  us. 
In  rather  a  disagreeable  voice,  he  asked  me 
if  I  could  drive.     I  replied  that  I  could. 

"Can  you  handle  a  gun  and  revolver?' ' 

"Certainly." 


22  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

"How  many  trips  have  you  made?" 

"None." 

"Then  how  the  devil  do  you  know  you  can 
drive?" 

"For  the  simple  reason  I  am  more  than 
anxious  to  learn,  and  so  are  my  friends." 
Then  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  the  position 
we  were  in  and  urged  him  to  give  us  a  chance. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "You  seem  to  be  a  deter- 
mined little  cuss;  are  the  rest  of  the  same 
timber?" 

I  told  him  they  were  of  the  same  wood 
but  not  of  the  same  tree. 

After  thinking  the  matter  over,  he  said, 
"I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  hire  the 
big  fellow  for  driver  at  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  dollars  per  month,  and  the  little 
fellow  for  night  herder  at  one  hundred  dollars 
a  month,  and  yourself  for  cook  for  one  mess 
of  twenty-five  men  and  for  driver  in  case  of 
sickness  or  death,  at  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  month." 

We  then  gave  him  our  names,  and,  in  return, 
he  gave  us  a  note  to  Mr.  Perry,  his  wagon 
boss.     We   at    once   started   for   his   corral, 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  23 

two  miles  distant,  where  we  found  the  gentle- 
man. He  asked  where  our  traps  were.  We 
told  him,  and  also  assured  him  that  we  would 
report  for  duty  the  following  morning. 

When  we  reached  our  camp  we  were  com- 
pletely tired  out,  but  passed  the  remainder 
of  the  day  in  celebrating  our  success,  and 
feeling  assured  that  if  we  escaped  the  scalping 
knife  of  the  Indians,  we  would  reach  Denver 
in  due  time,  and,  when  paid  off  have  a  nice 
sum  in  dollars. 

The  following  morning  we  had  an  early 
breakfast,  broke  camp,  and  reported  at  the 
corral  where  each  was  presented  with  two 
revolvers  and  a  repeating  carbine.  I  was 
then  taken  over  to  the  mess  wagon  which 
was  liberally  supplied  with  bacon  (in  the 
rough),  flour,  beans,  cargum  (or  sour  mo- 
lasses), coffee,  salt,  pepper,  baking-powder 
and  dried  apples;  the  latter  we  were  allowed 
three  times  a  week  for  dessert.  There  was 
also  a  skillet  for  baking  bread,  which 
resembled  a  covered  spider  without  a  handle. 

When  the  assistant  cook,  with  whom  I 
was  favored,  had  started  the  fire  and  sufficient 


24  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

coals  had  accumulated,  he  would  rake  them 
out  and  place  the  skillet  on  them.  As  soon 
as  the  dough  was  prepared,  a  chunk  was 
cut  off  and  put  in  the  skillet,  the  lid  placed 
and  covered  with  coals;  in  fifteen  minutes 
we  would  have  as  nice  a  looking  loaf  of 
bread  as  one  could  wish  to  see,  browned 
to  a  tempting  color.  When  eaten  warm,  it 
was  very  palatable,  but  when  cold,  only 
bullwhackers  could  digest  it.  An  old- 
fashioned  iron  kettle  in  which  to  stew  the 
beans  and  boil  the  dried  apples,  or  vice  versa, 
coffee  pots,  frying  pans,  tin  plates,  cups, 
iron  knives  and  forks,  spoons  and  a  combina- 
tion dish  and  bread-pan  made  up  the  re- 
mainder of  the  cooking  and  eating  utensils. 

EXPERIENCES    AMONG   THE    BUSHWHACKERS 

It  seemed  that  my  assistant  was  exempt 
from  bringing  water,  which  often  had  to  be 
carried  in  kegs  for  two  miles,  so  he  fried 
the  meat  and  washed  the  dishes.  I  soon 
caught  on  to  the  cooking,  and  doing  my 
best  to  please  everyone,  soon  became  aware 
of  the  fact  that  I  had  many  friends  among 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL  25 

the  toughest  individuals  on  earth,  the  pro- 
fessional bullwhackers,  who,  according  to 
their  own  minds,  were  very  important  per- 
sonages. Their  good  qualities  were  few, 
and  consisted  of  being  a  sure  shot,  and  expert 
at  lariat  and  whip -throwing.  They  would 
bet  a  tenderfoot  a  small  sum  that  they  could 
at  a  distance  of  twelve  feet,  abstract  a  small 
piece  from  his  trousers  without  disturbing 
the  flesh.  They  could  do  this  trick  nine 
times  out  of  ten.  The  whips  consisted  of 
a  hickory  stalk  two  feet  long,  a  lash  twelve 
feet  in  length  with  buck  or  antelope  skin 
snapper  nine  inches  in  length.  The  stalk 
was  held  in  the  left  hand,  the  lash  coiled 
with  the  right  hand  and  index  finger  of  the 
left.  It  was  then  whirled  several  times 
around  the  head,  letting  it  shoot  straight  out 
and  bringing  it  back  with  a  quick  jerk.  It 
would  strike  wherever  aimed,  raising  a  dead- 
head ox  nearly  off  its  hind  quarters  and 
cutting  through  the  hide  and  into  the  flesh. 
When  thrown  into  space,  it  would  make  a 
report  nearly  as  loud  as  a  revolver.  A 
lariat  is  a  fifty  foot  line  with  a  running  noose 


26  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

at  one  end  and  made  from  the  hide  of  various 
animals.  It  is  coiled  up  and  carried  on  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle.  When  used  for  captur- 
ing animals  or  large  game,  it  is  whirled 
several  times  around  the  head  when  the 
horse  is  on  a  dead  run  and  fired  at  the  head 
of  the  victim.  A  professional  can  place 
the  loop  nearly  every  time. 

During  the  third  day  of  corral  life,  the 
steers  arrived,  and  the  hard  work,  mixed 
with  much  fun,  commenced.  A  corral  is 
about  the  shape  of  an  eggf  closed  by  the 
wagons  at  one  end,  and  left  open  to  admit 
the  cattle  at  the  other,  then  closed  by  chains. 

MEANS   OF   TRANSPORTATION 

Our  wheelers  and  leaders  were  docile,  old 
freighters,  the  others  were  long-horned,  wild 
Texas  steers.  All  of  the  freighters  had  their 
oxen  branded  for  identification,  using  the 
first  letter  of  his  last  name  for  the  purpose. 
The  brand  was  made  from  iron  and  was 
about  four  inches  in  height,  attached  to  a 
rod  three  feet  in  length.  A  rope  was  placed 
over  the  horns  of  the  animal  and  his  head 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL 


27 


was  drawn  tight  to  the  hub  of  a  heavy  laden 
prairie  schooner.  A  bullwhacker,  tightly- 
grasping  the  tail  of  the  beast,  would  twist 
him  to  attention.  The  man  with  the  brand- 
ing implement  heated  to  a  white  heat  would 
quickly  jab  the  ox  on  the  hind  quarter, 
burning  through  hair  and  hide  and  into  the 
flesh.  Then,  after  applying  a  solution  of 
salt  and  water,  he  was  left  to  recover  as  best 
he  could.  The  brand  would  remain  in  evi- 
dence more  than  a  year  unless  the  steer  was 
captured  by  cattle  thieves,  who  possessed  a 
secret  for  growing  the  hair  again  in  six  months. 
When  the  branding  was  completed,  each 
man  was  given  twelve  steers  to  break  to  yoke, 
and  it  was  three  long  weeks  before  we  were 
in  shape  to  proceed  on  our  long  Western 
tramp.  The  cattle  were  driven  in  each 
morning  at  break  of  day,  the  same  time  as 
when  on  trail.  Each  man  with  a  yoke  on 
his  left  shoulder  and  a  bow  in  his  right  hand 
would  go  groping  about  in  almost  total  dark- 
ness to  select  his  twelve  steers.  When  they 
were  all  found  he  would  yoke  them  and 
hitch   them   to   the   wagons;     the   wheelers 


28  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

to  the  tongue,  the  leaders  in  front  and  the 
balance  to  section  chains.  For  days  we 
were  obliged  to  lariat  the  wildest  of  them 
and  draw  their  heads  to  the  hubs  of  the 
heavily  laden  wagons,  before  being  able  to 
adjust  the  yoke,  many  times  receiving  a 
gentle  reminder  from  the  hind  hoof  of  one  of 
the  critters  to  be  more  careful.  I  went  into 
the  fray  with  the  full  determination  of  learn- 
ing the  profession  of  driver  and  at  the  tenth 
day  I  had  broken  in  a  team  of  extras. 

ON  THE  SICK   LIST 

I  was  then  taken  sick  and  for  two  long 
weeks  kept  my  bed  of  earth  under  the  mess 
wagon,  with  no  mother  or  doctor,  and  two 
thousand  miles  from  home.  You  may  be 
able  to  imagine  my  feelings,  but  I  doubt  it. 
At  the  end  of  the  second  week  Mr.  Perry 
came  and  told  me  they  would  make  a  start 
the  next  afternoon  and,  in  his  judgment,  he 
thought  it  unwise  to  think  of  making  the 
trip  in  my  present  condition.  I  knew*  my 
condition  was  serious,  but  I  would  rather 
have  died  on  the  road,  among  those  outlaws, 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  29 

than  to  have  been  left  in  Atchison  among  en- 
tire strangers.  They  were  all  very  kind  and 
did  what  they  could  for  me,  but  were  power- 
less to  check  my  fast  failing  strength.  I 
had  wasted  to  less  than  one  hundred  pounds 
in  weight  and  was  too  weak  to  even  lift  an 
arm. 

I  pleaded  with  Mr.  Perry  for  some  time 
and  finally  overcame  his  objections.  "Well," 
he  said,  "Charlie,  I  will  fix  a  bed  in  my  wagon 
and  you  can  bunk  with  me."  I  objected, 
for  I  did  not  wish  to  discommode  him  in  the 
least  and  told  him  a  good  bed  could  be  fixed 
in  the  mess  wagon.  "As  you  will,"  he  said, 
and  had  the  boys  get  some  straw  which 
together  with  the  Buffalo  robe  made  a  very 
comfortable  bed  when  not  on  the  move. 

A   THUNDER   STORM 

The  next  day  they  picked  me  up  and  put 
me  in  the  second  or  reserve  mess  wagon. 
Shortly  after  that  the  start  was  made. 
We  had  covered  less  than  two  miles  when  all 
of  a  sudden  I  heard  the  rumbling  of  distant 
thunder.     Very   soon   rain   began   to  patter 


30  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

on  the  canvas  covering  of  my  wagon.  Then 
Heaven's  artillery  broke  loose  and  the  water 
came  down  in  torrents.  Never  in  my  young 
life  had  I  witnessed  such  a  storm.  It  seemed 
as  if  thunder,  lightning  and  clouds  had 
descended  to  earth  and  were  mad  with  anger. 
The  racket  was  deafening.  Between  the 
angered  claps  could  be  heard  the  cursing  of 
those  Missouri  bushwhackers,  who,  in  their 
oaths,  defied  the  Almighty  to  do  his  worst 
and  hurled  unspeakable  insults  at  the  memory 
of  the  mothers  who  gave  them  birth.  I  knew 
they  were  trying  hard  to  make  corral ;  whether 
they  could  do  it,  rested  entirely  with  the 
wagon  boss. 

The  cattle  were  crazed  with  fright  and  the 
moment  they  were  loose,  would  certainly 
stampede.  The  oxen  were  finally  unyoked 
and  such  a  snorting  and  bellowing,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  describe.  As  the  racket 
died  away  in  their  mad  race,  my  thoughts 
turned  to  my  chum,  who  I  knew  was  with 
them,  and  would  be  trampled  beyond  recogni- 
tion by  their  death-dealing  hoofs,  if  he  had 
not  gained  his  proper  position  in  the  rear. 


LOG  CABIN   IN   KANSAS 


32  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

THE   LOG   CABIN 

At  that  juncture  the  front  flaps  of  my 
wagon  were  parted  and  at  a  flash  I  recognized 
two  of  the  men,  who  bore  me  across  the  way 
to  the  "Old  Log  Cabin"  on  the  extreme 
edge  of  the  then  Western  civilization.  As 
they  laid  me  down  I  swooned  from  sheer 
exhaustion  and  fright.  Before  I  had  be- 
come fully  conscious  I  heard  that  gruff  old 
wagon  boss  telling  the  good  woman  of  the 
cabin  to  spare  nothing  for  my  comfort. 
She  felt  of  my  pulse,  asked  me  a  few  ques- 
tions and  assured  him  that  she  would  soon 
have  me  on  my  feet.  He  bade  "God  bless 
me,"  and  passed  out  into  the  dark  and 
stormy  night.  The  good  woman  poked  up 
the  fire  and  placed  an  old-fashioned,  iron  tea- 
kettle in  position  to  do  its  duty.  At  that 
juncture  a  young  miss  about  my  own  age 
came  from  somewhere,  as  if  by  magic,  and 
was  told  by  the  good  mother  to  prepare  a 
chicken,  that  she  might  make  broth  for  the 
sick  young  man,  pointing  to  where  I  lay. 
For  two  hours  that  good  mother  worked  over 
me,   now  and   then   giving  me   draughts   of 


DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL  33 

hot  herb  tea,  while  the  daughter  deftly 
prepared  nature's  wild  bird  of  the  prairie, 
occasionally  shooting  darts  of  sympathy  from 
her  jet  black  eyes.  When  the  bird  had  been 
cooked,  the  meat  and  bones  were  removed 
leaving  only  the  broth  which  was  seasoned 
to  a  nicety  and  given  me  in  small  quantities 
and  at  short  intervals  until  early  morning, 
when  I  passed  into  dreamland  with  the 
mother  keeping  vigil  as  though  I  were  her 
own  son.  When  I  awoke  I  felt  refreshed 
and  comfortable,  and  found  her  still  at  my 
side,  doing  for  me  that  which  only  a  mother 
can. 

At  daybreak  I  heard  footsteps  above; 
presently  the  father  and  son  came  in.  The 
daughter  was  called  and  breakfast  was  pre- 
pared. They  told  me  that  our  cattle  had 
stampeded  and  it  might  be  days  before  they 
were  found.  After  a  three  days  search  my 
chum  and  the  cattle  were  overtaken  miles 
from  camp,  but  none  the  worse  for  their 
fearful  experience.  The  moment  he  arrived 
he  came  to  see  me.  I  was  sitting  up  for  the 
first  time,  wrapped  in  Indian  blankets,  but 


34  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

very  weak.  I  assured  him  that  I  would 
certainly  get  well,  emphasizing  the  fact, 
however,  that  had  we  not  run  into  that 
fearful  storm,  making  my  present  haven  of 
care  possible,  I  could  never  have  recovered, 
and  believed  that  the  prayers  of  a  loving 
mother  at  home  had  been  answered. 

A   CATTLE   STAMPEDE 

He  then  related  his  experience  with  those 
storm -maddened  cattle.  The  first  clap  of 
thunder  awoke  him,  and  when  the  rain  be- 
gan he  knew  he  was  in  for  a  bad  night,  and 
had  taken  every  precaution  to  supply  himself 
with  all  things  needful.  His  description  of 
the  storm  and  mad  race  to  keep  up  with  those 
wild  animals,  crazed  with  fright,  was  enough 
to  congeal  the  blood  of  a  well  man,  and  in 
my  condition  it  nearly  unnerved  me.  But 
I  was  delighted  to  know  that  he  was  safe, 
for  we  were  like  brothers.  His  safe  arrival, 
together  with  the  motherly  care  I  had  re- 
ceived and  was  receiving,  put  me  rapidly  on 
the  gain.  Not  a  morning  passed  that  the 
daughter  did   not  shoulder  her  trusty  rifle 


36  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

and  go  out  in  search  of  some  refreshment  for 
me,  always  returning  with  a  number  of 
chickens  of  the  prairie.  She  was  a  sure  shot, 
as  were  the  entire  family,  for  they  were 
all  born  and  brought  up  on  the  border, 
moving  farther  West  as  the  country  became 
settled.  From  the  father  I  learned  the 
treachery  of  the  Indians,  their  mode  of  war- 
fare and  different  methods  of  attack;  in  fact, 
I  had  the  devilish  traits  of  the  noble  red  men — 
as  history  called  them — down  to  a  nicety. 

When  the  daughter's  day's  work  was  done, 
she  would  read  to  me  and  relate  stories  of 
her  life,  which  reminded  me  of  the  "Wild 
Rose"  in  all  its  purity  and  strength. 

The  fifth  day  after  the  cattle  were  found 
the  train  broke  corral  and  proceeded  on  its 
long  Western  tramp.  Before  leaving,  Mr. 
Perry  made  arrangements  with  the  old  border- 
man  for  me  to  overtake  them  as  soon  as  I 
was  able. 

The  fourth  day  after  the  train  had  left, 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  start  the 
next  morning  at  sunrise  and  so  informed 
my  Western  friends,  whom,  I  felt,  had  saved 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 


37 


my  life.  The  old  borderman  expressed  regret 
at  my  leaving  and  informed  me  that  both  he 
and  his  son  would  accompany  me  to  camp. 
I  thanked  him  and  assured  him  that  I  felt 
a  mother  could  not  have  done  more  for  her 
own  son  than  his  wife  had  for  me — they 
had  all  shown  me  every  consideration  pos- 
sible— and  that  I  should  always  remember 
them,  which  I  have.  At  this  juncture  the 
mother  spoke  up  gently,  but  firmly,  and 
addressing  her  husband,  said,  "If  you  have 
no  objection,  daughter  will  accompany  Mr. 
Young.  She  is  a  sure  shot,  a  good  horse- 
woman, and  the  horses  are  fleet  of  foot. 
We  have  not  heard  of  any  Indians  in  the 
neighborhood  for  some  time,  and  besides  she 
wants  to  go  and  the  ride  will  do  her  good." 

He  replied,  "My  good  woman,  you  cannot 
tell  where  the  Indians  are,  they  may  be  miles 
away  today,  but  here  this  very  night." 

"That  is  true,"  she  said,  "but  the  stage 
driver  told  me  that  he  had  not  seen  a  red- 
skin since  crossing  the  Nebraska  line." 

"That  may  be,"  he  replied,  "still  they  may 
have  been  in  the  bluffs,  or  sand  hills  watching 


38  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

their  opportunity  to  surprise  one  of  the 
many  small  trains  of  pilgrims,  thinking  to 
overpower  them,  run  off  their  cattle  and 
massacre  all." 

"Yes,  that  is  all  true,  but  I'll  wager  they 
could  not  catch  our  girl." 

After  thinking  silently  for  a  few  moments, 
he  said,  "Well,  if  you  wish,  she  may  go; 
but  if  anything  happens  to  our  little  one, 
you  alone  will  be  blamed." 

That  settled  it.  We  talked  long  after 
father  and  brother  had  bade  us  good  night. 
Mother  and  daughter  finally  retired;  but, 
as  for  myself,  I  was  nervous  and  restless, 
sleeping  little,  thinking  of  home  and  loved 
ones;  not,  however,  forgetting  the  little 
"Wild  Rose"  that  was  separated  from  me 
only  by  a  curtain  partition. 

The  following  morning  we  were  up  at 
break  of  day,  and  at  just  5:30  on  a  lovely 
August  morning  the  horses  were  brought  to 
the  door  and  both  quickly  mounted.  Her 
riding  habit  of  buckskin,  trimmed  with 
colored  beads,  was  the  most  becoming  costume 
I  had  ever  seen  on  her  during  my  stay,  and 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  39 

for  the  first  time  I  wished  that  I  were  not 
going,  but  it  was  for  a  moment  only. 

WITH   THE   WAGON   TRAIN   AGAIN 

My  destination  was  Denver,  and  nothing 
could  change  my  plans  except  death  in  the 
natural  way,  or  being  cut  down  by  those 
treacherous  plains  roamers.  After  a  pleasant 
ride  which  lasted  till  noon,  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  corral.  When  within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  of  it,  she  informed  me  she  was  going  no 
farther.  Both  quickly  dismounted.  Our 
conversation  would  not  interest  you.  Suf- 
fice to  say,  the  parting  was  painful  to  both. 
I  bade  her  good-bye  and  she  was  off  like  a 
flash.  I  walked  slowly  into  camp,  now 
and  then  turning  to  watch  the  fast 
retreating  figure  of  as  brave  a  prairie 
child  as  nature  ever  produced.  The 
men  appeared  glad  to  see  me;  the  gruff 
old  wagon  boss  more  so  than  any  of  the 
others,  for  he  would  not  let  me  turn  my 
hand  to  any  kind  of  work  until  I  was  able. 
Then  I  did  my  best  to  repay  him  for  his 
many  kindnesses. 


40  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

At  2  o'clock  that  afternoon  the  train 
broke  corral,  and  for  the  first  time  I  realized 
the  slowness  of  our  progress,  and  the  long 
trip  before  us.  Under  the  most  favorable 
circumstances  we  could  not  make  over  ten 
miles  a  day  and  more  often  at  the  beginning 
three,  five  and  seven. 

Our  bed  was  mother  earth,  a  rubber  blanket 
and  buffalo  robe  the  mattress,  two  pairs  of 
blankets  the  covering,  Heaven's  canopy  the 
roof;  the  stars  our  silent  sentinels.  The 
days  were  warm,  the  nights  cool.  We  would 
go  into  camp  at  sundown.  The  cattle  were 
unyoked  and  driven  to  water.  After  grub 
the  night  herder  and  one  of  the  drivers 
would  take  them  in  charge,  and  if  there  were 
no  Indians  following,  would  drive  them  to  a 
good  grazing  spot  over  the  bluffs. 

We  passed  through  Kansas,  after  crossing 
the  Little  and  Big  Blue  rivers,  and  part  of 
Nebraska  without  seeing  another  log  cabin 
or  woods.  Every  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
there  was  a  stage  station  of  the  Ben  Holiday 
coach  line,  which  ran  between  Atchison, 
Kansas,     and     Sacramento,     California.     At 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  41 

every  station  would  be  a  relay  of  six  horses, 
and  by  driving  night  and  day  would  make 
one  hundred  miles  every  twenty-four  hours. 
They  were  accompanied  by  a  guard  of  United 
States  soldiers  on  top  of  coaches  and  on 
horseback. 


FORT   CARNEY,   NEBRASKA,    1859 


CHAPTER  II 
ARRIVAL   AT   FORT   CARNEY 

RRIVING  at  Fort  Carney  we 
struck  the  Platte  River  trail 
leading  to  Denver.  We  were 
compelled  by  United  States 
army  officers  to  halt  and  await 
the  arrival  of  a  train  of  fifty 
armed  men  before  being 
allowed  to  proceed.  In  a  few 
hours  the  required  number  came  up,  together 
with  three  wagon  loads  of  pilgrims.  No  train 
was  permitted  to  pass  a  Government  fort 
without  one  hundred  well-armed  men;  but 
once  beyond  the  fort,  they  would  become 
separated  and  therein  lay  the  danger. 

A  captain  was  appointed  by  the  com- 
mander of  the  fort  to  take  charge.  Here 
we  struck  the  plains  proper,  or  the  great 
American  desert,  as  it  was  often  called,  the 
home  of  the  desperate  Indians,  degraded 
half-breeds,  and  the  squaw  man — white  men 
with  Indian  wives — who  were  at  that  time 


44  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

either  French  or  Spanish;  also  the  fearless 
hunters  and  trappers  with  nerves  of  steel, 
outdoing  the  bravest  Indian  in  daring  and 
the  toughest  grizzly  in  endurance.  It  is  a 
matter  of  record  that  these  men  of  iron  were 
capable  and  some  did  amputate  their  own 
limbs.  A  knife  sharpened  as  keen  as  a 
razor's  edge  would  cut  the  flesh;  another 
hacked  into  a  saw  would  separate  the  bones 
and  sensitive  marrow;  while  an  iron  heated 
to  white  heat  seared  up  the  arteries  and  the 
trick  was  done.  There  was  no  anesthetic 
in  those  days. 

There  were  also  the  cattle  and  mule  thieves 
who  lived  in  the  bluffs,  miles  from  the  trail 
of  white  men,  a  tough  lot  of  desperadoes, 
believing  in  the  adage  "Dead  men  tell  no 
tales." 

There  were  the  ranchmen  at  intervals  of 
twenty,  fifty  and  a  hundred  miles,  who  sold 
to  the  pilgrims  supplies,  such  as  canned 
goods,  playing  cards,  whiskey  of  the  vilest 
type,  and  traded  worn-out  cattle,  doctored  to 
look  well  for  a  few  days  and  then  give  out, 
thus  cheating  ^freighters  and  pilgrims  alike. 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  45 

These  adobe  ranches  were  built  of  sod  cut 
in  lengths  of  from  two  to  four  feet,  four 
inches  in  thickness  and  eighteen  inches  in 
width  and  laid  grass  side  down.  The  side 
walls  were  laid  either  single  or  double,  six 
feet  in  height,  with  the  end  walls  tapering 
upward.  A  long  pole  was  then  placed  from 
peak  to  peak  and  shorter  poles  from  side  walls 
to  ridge  pole.  Four  inches  of  grass  covered 
the  poles  and  the  same  depth  of  earth  com- 
pleted the  structure  making  the  best  fortifi- 
cations ever  devised;  no  bullet  was  able  to 
penetrate  their  sides  nor  could  fire  burn  them. 
The  poles  used  for  building  these  adobe 
ranches  were  in  most  cases  hauled  two 
hundred  miles  and  in  some  cases  three  hundred 
miles. 

WILD   ANIMALS    OF    THE   WEST 

On  a  graceful  slope  roamed  immense  herds 
of  buffalo,  bands  of  elk,  thousands  of  antelope, 
herds  of  black-  and  white-tail  deer  and  the 
large  gray  wolf.  Coyotes  about  the  size  of 
a  shepherd  dog  would  assemble  on  the  high 
bluffs  or  invade  the  camp  and  make  night 


46  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

hideous  by  their  continuous  and  almost 
perfect  imitation  of  a  human  baby's  cry, 
making  sleep  impossible.  The  prairie  dog, 
the  fierce  rattlesnake,  and  the  beautiful 
little  white  burrowing-owl,  occupied  the  same 
hole  in  the  ground,  making  a  queer  family 
combination.  Contrary  to  the  belief  of  all 
dwellers  and  travelers  of  the  plains  in  that 
day,  Colonel  Roosevelt  claims  it  is  not  a 
fact  that  the  three  mentioned  animals  oc- 
cupied the  same  quarters  together,  and  that 
the  story  is  a  myth. 

The  little  prairie  dogs  had  their  villages 
the  same  as  the  Indians.  I  have  frequently 
seen  a  prairie  dog  come  out  and  return  into 
the  same  hole  in  the  ground.  I  have  also 
seen  a  beautiful  little  white  owl  silently 
perched  at  the  side  of  the  same  hole  and 
finally  enter  it,  and  a  few  moments  later  a 
fierce  rattlesnake  would  crawl  into  the  same 
hole.  Whether  it  was  the  snake's  permanent 
abode  and  it  went  in  for  a  much  needed  rest, 
or  whether  it  was  an  enemy  to  the  others 
and  the  snake  went  in  for  a  game  supper  of 
prairie  dog  puppies  and  owl  squabs,  depart- 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  47 

ing  by  another  route,  I  am  unable  to  say, 
as  I  never  took  the  trouble  to  investigate  one 
of  the  holes  to  confirm  the  fact.  If  I  had, 
I  would  in  all  probability  still  be  digging. 
However,  in  this  case,  I  am  inclined  to  give 
Colonel  Roosevelt  the  benefit  of  the  doubt 
for  the  reason  that  if  nature  had  not  created 
an  enemy  to  check  their  increase,  the  prairie 
dog  would  now  over-run  the  country,  as  they 
multiply  faster  than  any  known  animal,  and 
are  very  destructive  to  the  farm.  The  Gov- 
ernment, through  its  agents,  have  destroyed 
thousands  every  year  in  the  West  by  distribut- 
ing poisoned  grain.  Last,  but  not  least,  of 
the  life  of  the  plains  was  the  Pole  Cat.  Con- 
scious of  his  own  ability  to  protect  himself,  he 
would  often  invade  the  camps  at  night,  mak- 
ing the  life  of  the  sleeper  miserable. 

TROUBLE    EN   ROUTE 

After  leaving  Fort  Carney  our  troubles 
began.  Many  of  the  drivers  were  as  treacher- 
ous as  the  Indians  and  would  bear  watching. 
One  of  them  in  our  mess  was  a  former  bush- 
whacker, who  bore  many  scars  of  his  former 


48  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

unsavory  life,  one  of  which  was  the  loss  of 
an  eye,  which  did  not  make  him  a  very  desir- 
able acquaintance,  much  less  a  companion. 
He  was  of  an  ugly  disposition,  very  seldom 
speaking  to  anyone  and  very  few  taking  the 
trouble  to  speak  to  him.  At  times  he  acted 
as  if  he  had  been  taking  something  stronger 
than  coffee,  but  as  we  had  not  camped  near 
any  ranch  where  the  poison  could  be  pro- 
cured, I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
a  dope  fiend.  In  some  mysterious  manner 
we  had  lost  one  of  our  cups,  and  at  each  meal 
for  a  week  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  this  particular 
bushwhacker  to  get  left.  He  at  last  broke 
his  long  silence,  and  in  anger  with  oaths, 
vowed  he  would  not  eat  another  meal  with- 
out a  cup,  and  would  certainly  take  one 
from  somebody,  if  obliged  to.  As  soon  as 
the  call  for  grub  was  heard  the  next  morning, 
all  rushed  simultaneously  for  a  cup,  and 
Mr.  Bushwhacker  got  left  again.  Without 
ceremony  he  proceeded  to  make  good 
his  threat,  the  second  cook  being  his 
victim. 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  49 

TROUBLE  EN  ROUTE 

For  his  trouble  he  received  a  stinging  blow 
over  his  good  eye,  and  was  sent  sprawling 
in  the  alkali  dust.  Not  being  in  the  least 
dismayed,  he  rushed  for  another  and  received 
a  similar  salute  on  the  jaw,  doubling  him  up 
and  bringing  him  to  the  earth.  By  this  time 
both  messes  joined  in  forming  a  ring  and 
called  for  fair  play.  Mr.  Perry  tried  hard 
to  stop  it,  but  was  finally  convinced  that  it 
was  better  policy  to  let  them  have  it  out. 
How  many  times  the  fellow  was  knocked 
down,  I  do  not  remember,  but  the  last  round 
finished  him.  We  carried  him  to  the  shady 
side  of  his  wagon,  covered  him  with  a  blanket 
and  resumed  our  meal.  On  going  into  corral, 
we  always  took  our  revolvers  off  and  placed 
them  where  they  could  easily  be  reached. 
We  had  been  eating  but  a  short  time,  when 
the  report  of  a  gun  rang  out  and  each  man 
fairly  flew  for  his  weapons.  Indians  seldom 
made  an  attack  except  at  early  morning, 
when  the  oxen  were  being  yoked  or  when  we 
were  going  into  corral  at  night.  To  the 
surprise  of  everyone  Mr.  Bushwhacker  had 


50  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

taken  another  lease  of  life  and  with  a  revolver 
in  each  hand  was  firing  at  anyone  his  dis- 
turbed brain  suggested.  He  was  quick  of 
action,  firing  and  reloading  with  rapidity, 
and  soon  had  the  entire  camp  playing  hide 
and  seek  between,  around  and  under  the 
wagons  to  keep  out  of  the  range  of  his  guns, 
which  we  succeeded  in  doing,  for  not  a  man 
was  hit.  Finally,  two  of  the  drivers  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  behind  him  and  over- 
powered him.  His  brother  bushwhackers 
were  in  for  lynching  him  on  the  spot,  but 
wiser  council  prevailed,  and  his  disposal 
was  left  to  Mr.  Perry  who  sentenced  him  to 
be  escorted  back  three  miles  from  the  corral 
and  left  to  walk  the  remaining  two  miles 
to  Fort  Carney  alone.  He  covered  less  than 
a  mile  when  he  was  captured  by  the  Indians. 
I  was  obliged  then  to  drive  his  team.  A  few 
evenings  later  my  chum  and  friend  were 
lounging  by  the  side  of  my  wagon  smoking, 
and  otherwise  passing  the  time  away,  when 
finally  the  conversation  turned  to  the  de- 
parted driver  who  by  that  time  had  undoubt- 
edly been  disposed  of  by  the  Indians — not 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL  51 

a  very  pleasant  thought — but  we  consoled 
ourselves  with  the  fact  that  no  one  was  to 
blame  but  himself.  My  chum  inquired 
the  contents  of  my  prairie  schooner,  and 
I  replied  that  I  did  not  know,  but  would 
investigate.  Suiting  the  action  to  the  word 
I  crawled  in,  struck  a  match,  and  found  a 
case  labeled  Hostetters'  Bitters.  Its  ingredi- 
ents were  one  drop  of  Bitters  and  the  re- 
mainder, poor  liquor.  I  soon  found  a  case 
that  had  been  opened,  pulled  out  a  bottle 
and  sampled  it.  The  old  story  came  to  me 
about  the  Irish  saloonkeeper  and  his  bar- 
tender. I  called  my  chum  and  asked  him  if 
Murphy  was  good  for  a  drink,  he  replied, 
"Has  he  got  it?"  "He  has?"  "He  is  then!" 
and  we  all  were.  I  thought  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  the  secret  to  be  kept,  but  it  was 
until  we  were  on  the  last  leg  to  Denver. 
The  entire  load  consisted  of  cases  of  the 
Bitters.  Fights  were  of  frequent  occurrence 
during  the  remainder  of  the  trip,  Mr.  Perry 
being  powerless  to  prevent  them. 

Arriving  at  Central  City  where  the  Bitters 
were   consigned,   the   consignee   reported   to 


52  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

the  freighter  that  the  load  just  received  con- 
sisted of  one-half  Bitters,  the  remainder 
Platte  river  water.  Each  man  had  twenty 
dollars  deducted  from  his  pay,  and  a  large 
number  of  the  drivers,  in  addition,  bore  ear- 
marks of  its  effect. 

The  country  from  Fort  Carney  for  four 
hundred  miles  up  the  Platte  river  valley 
and  back  from  the  high  bluffs,  that  skirted 
the  river  on  either  side,  was  one  vast  rolling 
plain  with  no  vegetation  except  a  coarse 
luxuriant  growth  of  grass  in  the  valley  near 
the  river  and  beyond  the  bluffs;  in  spots 
that  were  not  bare  grew  the  prickly  pear, 
and  a  short  crisp  grass  of  lightish  color  and 
of  two  varieties — the  bunch  and  buffalo 
grasses — which  were  very  nutritious,  as  the 
cattle  thrived  and  grew  fat  on  them.  There 
was  the  clear  sky  and  sun  by  day,  with  an 
occasional  sandstorm;  the  moon  (when  out) 
and  stars  by  night,  but  no  rain — a  vast 
thirsty  desert.  On  the  small  islands  of  the 
river  a  few  scattered  cottonwood  trees  were 
to  be  seen.  Their  high  branches  embraced 
a  huge  bunch  of  something  that  resembled 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  53 

the  nest  of  an  American  Eagle,  but  on  close 
inspection  was  found  to  be  the  corpse  of 
a  lone  Indian  a  long  time  dead.  This  was 
the  mode  of  burial  of  some  of  the  tribes 
in  the  early  days,  using  fur  robes  or  blankets 
for  a  casket.  There  was  nothing  to  relieve 
the  monotony  in  this  desert  land,  except 
desperate  Indians,  immense  herds  of  animal 
life,  daily  coaches — when  not  held  back 
or  captured  by  the  Indians  or  mountain 
highwaymen — returning  freight  trains,  and 
the  following  points  where  there  were  adobe 
ranches:  Dog  Town,  Plum  Creek,  Beaver 
Creek,  Godfrey's,  Moore's,  Brever's  at  Old 
California  Crossing  and  Jack  Morrow's  at 
the  junction  of  the  north  and  south  Platte, 
Fort  Julesburg,  Cotton  Wood  and  the  Junc- 
tion, each  one  hundred  miles  apart,  and  John 
Corlew's  and  William  Kirby  near  O' Fallow's 
Bluffs.  It  was  said  of  these  ranchmen  that 
some  were  honest  and  some  were  not;  others 
were  in  league  with  the  Indians,  and  cattle 
and  mule  thieves,  and,  as  a  rule,  a  bad 
lot.     They   traded   supplies   to   the    Indians 


54  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

for  furs  of  every  kind.  The  winter  passed 
in  hunting,  trapping,  drinking,  and 
gambling. 

o'fallow's  bluffs 
O'Fallow's  Bluffs  was  a  point  where  the 
river  ran  to  the  very  foot  of  the  bluffs  making  it 
necessary  for  all  of  the  trains  to  cross,  then 
again  strike  Platte  river  trail  at  Alkali  Creek, 
the  waters  of  which  were  poisonous  to  man 
and  beast.  The  trail  over  the  bluffs  was  of 
sand,  and  those  heavily  ladened,  white  cov- 
ered prairie  schooners  would  often  sink  to 
the  hubs,  requiring  from  fifty  to  seventy- 
five  yoke  of  oxen  to  haul  them  across,  often 
being  compelled  to  double  the  leading  yoke 
as  far  back  as  the  wheelers,  then  doubling 
again,  would  start  them  on  a  trot,  and  with 
all  in  line  and  pulling  together,  would  land 
the  deeply  sunken  wheels  on  solid  ground. 
It  took  one  entire  day  to  again  reach  river 
trail,  which  was  hard  and  smooth.  O'Fal- 
low's Bluffs  was  a  point  feared  by  freighters 
and  emigrants  alike.  At  this  point  many  a 
band    of    pilgrims    met    destruction    at    the 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL  55 

hands  of  the  fiendish  redskins  of  the  plains. 
Directly  upon  going  into  camp  at  night  a 
party  of  them  would  ride  up,  demand  coffee, 
whiskey,  or  whatever  they  wanted,  and  hav- 
ing received  it,  would  massacre  the  men  and 
children,  reserving  the  women  for  a  fate  a 
thousand  fold  worse,  as  they  were  very 
seldom  rescued  by  the  tardy  government, 
whose  agents  were  supplying  the  Indians 
with  guns,  ammunition  and  whiskey  to 
carry  on  their  hellish  work  unmolested. 
When  captured,  which  was  seldom,  were 
they  hung  as  they  deserved?  No,  the  chief 
with  a  few  others,  who  stood  high  in  the 
councils  of  the  tribe,  were  taken  by  stage  to 
Atchison,  Kansas,  there  transferred  to  luxuri- 
antly equipped  sleeping  cars  of  that  day, 
and  whirled  on  to  Washington;  and,  in  war 
paint  and  feather  and  with  great  pomp,  were 
presented  to  their  great  white  father  (the 
President)  as  they  called  him. 


56  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

ABUSES    OF   THE   INDIAN    DEPARTMENT 

They  were  then  taken  in  charge  by  Repre- 
sentatives of  the  Indian  department  of  the 
Government,  that  in  those  days  was  honey- 
combed with  corruption  from  foundation  to 
dome;  a  disgraceful  and  blood-stained  spot 
in  the  Nation's  history.  Day  after  day 
and  night  after  night  they  were  shown  the 
sights  of  that  great  city.  The  capitol  of  a 
free  and  growing  Republic  whose  people 
respected  the  Constitution  their  fathers  had 
drafted,  signed  and  fought  for.  Day  after 
day  and  night  after  night  they  were  courted, 
dined,  toasted  and  wined  until  they  had  be- 
come sufficiently  mellow  to  be  cajoled  into 
signing  another  peace  treaty,  and  were  then 
given  money  and  loaded  down  with  presents 
as  an  inducement  to  be  good.  They  were 
then  returned  to  the  agency  at  the  Fort, 
having  been  taken  from  there  and  back  by 
those  red-nosed,  liquor-bloated  Indian  De- 
partment guardians  of  the  United  States 
Government  and  were  freely  supplied  with 
whiskey  until  they  were  willing  to  part  with 
their  cattle,  furs,  and  beaded  goods  at  ex- 


DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL  57 

tremely  low  figures,  in  exchange  for  pro- 
visions, guns,  ammunition,  and  liquor  at 
fabulously  high  prices.  Robbed  of  their 
money  and  presents,  and  in  this  condition 
allowed  to  return  to  their  village,  where 
when  they  become  sober,  they  would 
quickly  awaken  to  a  realizing  sense  of 
how  they  had  been  deceived,  swindled  and 
robbed. 

What  could  you  expect  from  those  copper- 
colored  savages  of  the  soil  after  such  treat- 
ment? With  no  regard  for  the  treaty  they 
had  signed,  they  would  resume  the  war- 
path. Revenge,  swift  and  terrible,  was  meted 
out  to  the  innocent  pilgrims  and  freighters 
who  had  left  home,  comforts  and  friends. 
Hundreds  sacrificed  their  lives  by  horrible 
tortures  in  their  heroic  efforts  to  settle  the 
West,  unconscious  that  they  were  making 
history  for  their  country  and  the  nation, 
great. 

With  no  respect  for  the  United  States 
Government,  with  no  respect  for  the  flag 
with  its  cluster  of  stars  and  stripes  of  red, 
white  and  blue  that  fired  the  heart  of  every 


58  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

living  American  soldier  to  win  victory  at 
Valley  Forge,  which  gained  our  independ- 
ence, Antietam,  and  San  Juan  Hill,  saved  the 
nation,  reunited  the  union  of  states  in  lasting 
friendship,  lifted  the  yoke  of  tyranny  from 
an  oppressed  people;  and,  as  if  with  one 
stroke,  swept  from  the  high  seas  two  power- 
ful naval  squadrons — the  pride  of  the  Spanish 
nation. 

Washington,  Lincoln  and  McKinley  were 
backed  by  the  old  glory  that  electrified  every 
loyal  American  with  patriotism  to  respond 
to  the  call  of  duty  for  the  love  of  their  country 
and  the  "Star  Spangled  Banner,"  that  at 
that  time  fluttered  high  above  the  parapet 
of  every  Government  fort  as  an  emblem  of 
protection  to  all  that  were  struggling  on  and 
on  over  that  vast  expanse  of  unbroken  and 
treeless  plain;  can  you  wonder  then  that 
the  unspeakable  crimes  and  mistakes  of  the 
Government  of  those  days  still  rankle  in  the 
breast  of  every  living  man  and  woman  that 
in  any  way  participated  in  the  settlement 
of  the  West?  If  you  do,  look  on  the  paint- 
ing of  the  terrible  annihilation  of  the  gallant 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  59 

Custer  and  his  five  companies  of  the  Seventh 
U.  S.  Cavalry  with  the  old  chief,  Sitting  Bull, 
and  his  band  of  Sioux  Indians  on  the  Big 
Horn  River,  June  25,  1876,  from  which  not 
a  man  escaped  to  tell  the  tale,  and  you  may 
form  some  conception  of  the  hardships, 
suffering,  and  cruelties  inflicted  on  the  early 
pioneer.  It  was  left  for  the  resourceful 
Remington  to  vividly  portray  life  and 
scenes  of  those  days,  perpetuating  their 
memory  on  canvas  and  bronze  for  all  time. 
The  name  of  Frederick  Remington  should 
not  only  go  down  in  history  as  the  greatest 
living  artist  of  those  scenes,  but  his  bust  in 
bronze  should  be  given  a  place  in  the  Hall  of 
Fame  as  a  tribute  to  his  life  and  a  recogni- 
tion of  his  great  worth. 


CHAPTER  III 
AN   ATTACK    BY   THE   INDIANS 

TALLOW'S  Bluffs  was  the  most 
dismal  spot  on  the  entire 
trail.  Its  high  walls  of  earth 
and  over-hanging,  jagged 
rocks,  with  openings  to  the 
rolling  plain  beyond,  made 
it  an  ideal  point  for  the 
sneaking,  cowardly  savages  to  attack  the 
weary  pilgrims  and  freighters.  The  very 
atmosphere  seemed  to  produce  a  feeling  of 
gloom  and  approaching  disaster.  The 
emigrants  had  been  repeatedly  instructed 
by  the  commander  at  Fort  Carney  to 
corral  with  one  of  the  trains.  Many  of  the 
bull  whackers  were  desperate  men,  so  that 
the  poor  pilgrims  were  in  danger  from  two 
sources,  and  very  seldom  camped  near  either 
corral.  Our  consort  was  a  day's  drive  in 
the  rear.  That  evening  the  emigrants  camped 
about  a  half  mile  in  advance  of  our  train. 
It  was  at  this  point,  when  unyoking  our  oxen 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  61 

at  evening  that  a  large  band  sneaked  over  the 
bluffs  for  the  purpose,  as  we  supposed,  of 
stampeding  our  cattle.  They  did  not  take 
us  unawares,  however,  for  we  never  turned 
cattle  from  corral  until  the  assistant  wagon 
boss  surveyed  the  locality  in  every  direction 
with  a  field  glass,  for  the  tricky  redskin 
might  be  over  the  next  sand  hill. 

Fifty  good  men  could  whip  five  times  their 
number,  especially  when .  fortified  by  those 
immense  white  covered  prairie  schooners 
in  corral  formation.  On  they  came  in  single 
file,  their  blood-curdling  war  whoop  enough 
to  weaken  the  bravest.  Closer  they  came, 
bedecked  in  war-paint  and  feathers,  their 
chief  in  the  lead  resembling  the  devil  incarnate 
with  all  his  aids  bent  on  exterminating  as 
brave  a  band  of  freighters  as  ever  crossed 
the  plains.  Nearer  they  came,  their  ponies 
on  a  dead  run,  the  left  leg  over  the  back, 
the  right  under  and  interlocking  the  left, 
firing  from  the  opposite  side  of  them,  duck- 
ing their  heads,  encircling  the  camp,  and 
yelling  like  demons.  Their  racket,  together 
with  the  yelping  of  their  mongrel  dogs  and 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  63 

the  snorting  and  bellowing  of  the  cattle, 
made  it  an  unspeakable  hell.  Every  man 
stood  to  his  gun,  and  from  between  the 
wagons,  at  the  command  of  the  wagon  boss, 
poured  forth  with  lightning  rapidity  his  leaden 
messengers  of  death.  For  about  an  hour 
they  made  it  very  interesting  for  us.  It 
was  almost  impossible  to  hit  one  as  they  kept 
circling  the  camp,  drawing  nearer  with  each 
circle  made.  How  many  were  killed  we 
did  not  know  as  they  carried  them  off,  but 
from  the  number  of  riderless  ponies,  a  dozen 
or  more  must  have  been  dispatched  to  their 
happy  hunting  grounds.  During  the  fight 
a  portion  of  them  bore  down  on  the  poor 
pilgrims'  camp,  in  plain  sight,  and  mas- 
sacred all,  running  off  their  cattle  and  such 
of  their  outfit  as  they  wanted. 

SAVAGES    IN   THEIR   GLORY 

Mothers  with  babes  at  their  sides  and  with 
uplifted,  clasped  hands,  implored  the  cruel 
warriors  for  mercy,  but  it  was  like  pouring 
water  on  the  desert  sands.  Crazed  by  thirst 
for  blood  and  the  scalps  of  the  whites,  they 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL  65 

knew  no  mercy.  The  hatchet-like  tomahawk 
glittering  in  the  evening  twilight,  held  with 
a  vice-like  grip  in  the  hand  of  a  cowardly- 
savage,  came  down  at  last  with  such  force 
as  to  crush  through  skull  and  brain,  and  all 
was  over.  We  were  powerless  to  render 
assistance.  The  scene  was  heartrending. 
The  depredations  of  these  savages  is  too 
revolting  to  relate,  and  after  completing  their 
hellish  work,  they  sneaked  back  as  they 
came,  keeping  up  their  sickening  yell  until 
distance  drowned  it  entirely.  Few  days  pas- 
sed that  they  were  not  seen  as  evening  ap- 
proached, and  after  dark  we  were  able  to 
know  that  they  were  in  the  vicinity,  watch- 
ing their  opportunity  to  surprise  us  at  early 
morning,  by  signal  arrows  of  fire  shot  into 
the  heavens  to  make  known  their  where- 
abouts to  companions.  Could  these  silent 
bluffs  of  sand  but  unfold  the  butchery  and 
unspeakable  outrages  inflicted  on  innocent 
men,  women  and  children,  could  the  trail 
through  the  valley  of  the  Platte,  and  even 
more  dangerous  trail  of  the  Smoky  Hill 
give  up  its  secrets,  it  would  reveal  a  dark 


66  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

page  in  the  history  of  our  Government,  which 
was  directly  responsible  for  a  great  deal  of  it; 
responsible  in  so  far  as  sending  unscrupulous 
peace  commissioners  to  the  different  agencies 
to  make  treaties  of  peace  with  tribes  of 
Indians,  and  who  kept  them  just  long  enough 
to  become  liberally  supplied  with  provisions, 
clothing,  guns,  ammunition  and  whiskey, 
then  ravish  and  murder  in  the  most  diabolical 
manner  pilgrims  and  freighters  alike.  On 
both  trails  many  a  silent  monument  of  stone 
was  all  that  remained  of  their  cruel  depreda- 
tions. Such  was  not  the  uncommon  work 
of  the  fiends,  known  to  readers  of  fiction  as 
the  noble  red  men  of  the  plains.  More 
dastardly  cowards  never  existed.  Their 
struggles  against  destiny  have  long  since 
been  broken,  and  the  offspring  of  those  cruel 
warriors  are  being  educated  by  a  gracious 
government. 

The  monotony  of  that  lonesome  and  tedious 
tramp  was  enlivened  only  by  fights  among 
the  men,  and  an  occasional  lay-over  for  a  day 
to  set  the  tires  of  the  many  wagons,  having 
had    no    rain    to    keep    them    tight    during 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  67 

the  entire  trip  after  leaving  Atchison, 
Kansas. 

With  many  encounters  and  bearing  scars 
received  from  warring  tribes  of  Indians, 
we  tramped  along  in  moccasin  covered  feet, 
now  and  again  throwing  our  long  lashed 
whips  with  such  force  as  to  awaken  the  dead- 
head ox  to  life  and  quicker  action. 

Day  after  day  the  same  scenery  faced  us; 
yet,  it  was  an  experience  never  to  be  forgotten. 
We  passed  Fort  Julesburg  and  Cottonwood 
with  the  loss  of  but  three  men,  arriving  late  at 
night  after  a  forced  drive  at  the  junction  or 
division  of  the  two  trails  leading  to  Denver. 
The  distance  to  Denver  by  the  "Cut-off" 
was  seventy-five  miles;  by  the  river  route 
one  hundred  miles ;  but  as  water  was  to  be 
found  only  at  long  distances  on  the  former, 
all  cattle  trains  took  the  river  route. 

It  was  early  in  November,  the  nights  and 
mornings  were  cold  and  frosty,  the  air 
exhilarating.  We  were  up  the  next  morning 
at  the  usual  time,  and  as  the  sun  rose  in  all 
its  splendor  and  warmth,  one  hundred  miles 
in  the  far  away  distance  could  be  seen  with 


68  DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL 

the  naked  eye,  the  gigantic  range  of  the 
Rockies  whose  lofty  snow-capped  peaks, 
sparkling  in  the  morning  sun,  seemed  to 
soar  and  pierce  the  clouds  of  delicate  shades 
that  floated  in  space  about  them,  attracted, 
as  it  were,  by  a  heavenly  magnet.  It  was  a 
sight  I  had  not  dreamed  of,  and  one  that 
made  an  impression  on  my  young  mind  to 
last  through  life. 

DENVER   AT   LAST  ! 

When  about  ten  miles  from  Denver — so 
we  at  least  thought,  and  fearless  of  danger, 
my  chum  and  myself  obtained  permission 
from  Mr.  Perry  to  walk  to  the  city  over  the 
rolling  ground.  We  tramped  until  the  sun 
was  well  up  in  the  heavens.  One  would 
think  it  but  a  few  miles  to  those  mighty 
and  solemn  mountains  of  rocks,  so  deceptive 
was  the  distance,  yet,  they  were  twenty 
miles  beyond  the  city.  At  noon  we  knew 
we  had  made  ten  long  miles  and  were  com- 
pletely tired  out.  We  were  on  the  point 
of  taking  a  rest  when  I  urged  my  chum  to 
cross  the  next  knoll,  and  if  the  city  did  not 


DANGERS~0F  THE   TRAIL  69 

loom  up  we  would  halt.  We  did  so  and  to 
our  surprise  and  joy  were  right  in  the  city 
of  Denver,  the  " Mecca' '  of  nearly  all  Western 
freighters  and  distributing  point  for  the 
far  Western  territories.  It  seemed  to  have 
risen  beneath  our  feet.  The  grand  old  range 
of  mountains  with  their  sky-soaring  pinnacles 
and  scenic  background  of  grandeur,  together 
with  the  surrounding  landscape,  made  it  the 
sight  of  one's  life.  Our  sixteen  mile  walk 
and  previous  seventy  days'  living  on 
a  diet  of  bacon,  beans,  and  dried  apples, 
certainly  placed  us  in  condition  for  a  civilized 
meal. 

We  were  directed  to  a  first-class  restaurant, 
both  in  price  and  quality  of  food.  We  were 
about  famished,  and  to  satisfy  our  hunger 
seemed  impossible.  We  ate  and  ate,  and 
probably  would  have  been  eating  yet,  had 
not  the  waiter  presented  us  with  a  ticket 
demanding  a  five  dollar  gold  piece  from  each, 
when  we  decided  we  had  better  call  a  halt,  if 
we  intended  to  remain  in  the  city  over 
night. 


70  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 

On  walking  up  the  street  we  stepped  into 
the  first  hotel  we  came  to,  the  old  *  'Planters," 
registered,  paid  for  our  supper,  lodging  and 
breakfast.  When  about  to  leave  the  hotel, 
who  should  walk  in  but  a  Genevan  by  name, 
Michael  C.  Pembroke,  with  his  arm  in  a 
sling.  He  had  been  propelled  across  the 
plains  by  mules,  and  one  of  the  ugly  brutes 
had  broken  his  right  arm  with  one  of  his  ever 
active  hoofs.  I  asked  Michael  why  the 
mule  kicked  him?  He  replied,  "Charlie, 
I  may  look  foolish  but  was  not  fool  enough 
to  go  back  and  ask  him."  Never  approach 
a  Missouri  mule  from  the  rear,  for  there 
certainly  will  be  trouble  if  you  do.  He  asked 
if  we  had  any  money. 

We  replied  that  we  would  have  when  paid 
off. 

He  advised  us  to  go  direct  to  the  Ben 
Holiday  stage  office  and  buy  a  ticket  for  the 
States  as  soon  as  we  received  our  pay,  as 
Colorado  was  no  place  for  boys. 

At  his  suggestion  we  started  out  to  do  the 
town,  and  came  very  near  being  done  our- 


MICHAEL   C.    PEMBROKE 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  71 

selves.  Colorado  at  this  time  was  a  terri- 
tory with  a  Governor  appointed  by  the 
President.  Law,  except  as  executed  by  a 
vigilance  committee,  did  not  amount  to  much 
more  than  the  word.  If  one  wished  to  depart 
life  in  full  dress,  he  could  be  accommodated 
by  simply  calling  another  a  liar  or  cheat  at 
gambling.  If  desirous  of  taking  a  long  rest 
by  being  suspended  by  the  neck  from  a  limb 
of  the  only  tree  in  Denver  at  that  time,  which 
was  on  the  west  side  of  Cherry  Creek,  all  he 
had  to  do  was  to  appropriate  to  himself  an 
ox,  mule,  or  anything  of  value,  and  the 
vigilance  committee  would  manipulate  the 
rope. 

The  gambling  places,  which  occupied  long 
halls  on  the  ground  floor  of  tall  buildings — 
nearly  always  on  the  business  street  of  the 
city — kept  open  until  the  small  hours  of 
morning.  There  was  always  a  brass  band 
in  front,  and  a  string  band,  or  orchestra,  in 
the  extreme  rear,  so  if  one  wished  to  dance, 
he  could  select  a  partner  of  most  any  na- 
tionality; dance  a  set,  step  up  to  the  bar, 
pay  two  bits  or  twenty-five  cents  for  cigars, 


72  DANGERS   OF  THE  TRAIL 

drinks  or  both  and  expend  his  balance  on 
any  game  known  to  the  profession,  which 
games  occupied  either  side  of  the  long  room. 

We  had  been  in  the  place  less  than  fifteen 
minutes  when  bang  went  a  revolver  and  on 
the  instant  the  room  was  in  total  darkness. 
I  mechanically  ducked  under  a  table.  Where 
my  companions  were,  I  knew  not;  I  began  to 
think  that  Mike's  advice  was  about  correct, 
and  before  emerging  wished  more  than  once 
I  was  back  in  my  home.  When  the  lights 
were  turned  on,  I  discovered  my  chum 
occupying  a  like  berth  of  safety  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  room. 

Mike  had  evidently  followed  his  own 
advice  and  taken  his  departure,  for  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  The  band  struck  up 
a  lively  tune;  the  fiddles,  a  waltz;  dancing 
began,  gold  and  chips  commenced  to  fly, 
and,  if  I  had  not  passed  through  the  ordeal, 
I  never  would  have  known  anything  had 
happened.  The  dead  were  quickly  disposed 
of,  the  wounded  hurried  to  physicians, 
and  old  timers  gave  it  no  further  thought, 
as  it  was  of  frequent  occurrence,   and  one 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  73 

soon  became  hardened.  Denver  at  that  time 
was  a  hotbed  of  gambling,  with  murder  and 
lynch  law  a  secondary  pastime.  Not  being 
deterred  by  our  experience,  we  continued 
our  sightseeing,  ending  up  at  the  only  theatre 
in  the  city,  afterwards  called  the  "Old 
Languish.' ' 

JOINING   THE   CATTLE   TRAIN   AGAIN 

The  following  afternoon  our  train  reached 
town  and  we  joined  it  during  the  evening 
to  be  ready  for  an  early  start  for  Golden 
City,  the  entrance  to  the  mountains  lead- 
ing to  Black  Hawk  and  Central  City  where 
our  freight  was  consigned.  The  most  hazard- 
ous part  of  our  trip  was  before  us,  one  that 
to  this  day  makes  me  shiver  when  I  think  of 
it.  The  first  team  entered  the  canyon  at 
1 1  A.  m.  in  a  blinding  snowstorm.  The  road 
for  nearly  the  entire  distance  was  hewn 
from  solid  rock  out  of  the  side  of  steep 
mountains,  gradually,  ascending  to  a  great 
height,  then  descending  to  what  seemed  a 
bottomless  canyon.  We  finally  arrived  at 
Guy  Hill,  the  most  dangerous  part .  of  the 


74  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

route.  It  took  us  one  entire  day  to  reach 
its  pinnacle,  where  we  camped  for  the  night. 
The  road  at  the  top  was  cut  through  solid 
rock  at  a  height  of  twenty  feet,  seven  feet 
in  width  and  led  to  a  steep  precipice.  It 
then  made  a  sharp  turn  to  the  right  and,  in 
a  serpent  shape  drive,  continued  to  the 
canyon  below.  At  this  point  it  was  said  to 
be  fifteen  hundred  feet  straight  down,  and 
a  number  of  outfits  had  previously  gone  over 
its  rocky  edge  and  been  hurled  to  destruc- 
tion by  a  slight  error  of  judgment  on  the 
part  of  the  driver. 

The  cold  and  snow,  together  with  summer 
clothing,  made  our  suffering  indescribable. 
The  following  morning  I  started  in  the  lead 
of  the  train  with  a  nine  thousand  pound 
boiler,  with  the  rear  wheels  securely  locked, 
and  twenty  yoke  of  oxen  to  haul  it  to  the 
edge  of  the  precipice.  Then  discarding  all 
but  the  wheelers  and  leaders,  we  began 
the  descent.  There  was  not  room  enough 
on  either  side  for  the  driver  to  walk.  He 
generally  rode  the  off  ox,  but  I  took  my 
position  on   the  rear  of  the  wagon    tongue 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  75 

and  found  it  decidedly  the  safest  place  in 
case  of  an  accident.  By  night  all  wagons 
were  safely  in  the  canyon  below.  The  road 
for  nearly  the  entire  distance  presented  the 
same  dangers,  taking  ten  days  to  reach  our 
destination  from  Denver,  the  entire  trip 
occupying  eighty  days. 

A   THRILLING    COACH    RIDE 

On  receiving  our  pay,  which  was  our 
promised  salary  less  twenty  dollars  for  the 
Hostetter's  Bitters,  my  chum  and  myself 
decided  to  go  direct  to  Denver,  our  friend 
remaining  in  the  Mountain  City.  We  board- 
ed a  Concord  coach  with  six  snow-white 
horses  to  wheel  us  on  a  dead  run  over  and 
around  steep  mountains  and  through  dismal 
canyons,  first  on  four  wheels,  then  three, 
then  two  and  occasionally  one,  keeping 
us  constantly  busy  retaining  our  seats  and 
fearing  at  every  turn  that  we  would  be  dashed 
into  eternity;  and  yet,  it  wTas  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  and  thrilling  rides  one  could 
take.  Being  tossed  from  side  to  side  in  the 
roomy    coach,    now    and    then    grabbing    a 


76  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

fellow  passenger  with  desperation,  gazing 
down  from  lofty  peaks  to  yawning  chasms 
below,  hearing  the  crack  of  the  long-lashed 
whip  urging  the  noble  steeds  to  faster  speed, 
turning  the  rough,  ragged,  serpent-shaped 
drive,  thundering  through  clouds  and  mist 
with  lightning  rapidity,  and  always  in  con- 
stant terror  of  a  breakdown  or  error  on  the 
part  of  the  fearless  driver,  gave  one  a  sensa- 
tion that  would  nearly  make  his  hair  stand 
on  end.  During  the  descent  a  slight  error 
on  the  part  of  the  horses  or  driver,  would 
have  hurled  all  to  a  horrible  death;  but 
those  mountain  drivers,  strapped  to  their 
seats,  were  monarchs  of  the  Rockies  and 
unerring  in  every  move.  From  among  the 
snow-covered  glaciers  sparkling  in  the  morn- 
ing sun,  emitting  the  many  tints  of  a  mid- 
day storm-bow  and  presenting  a  sight  of 
unsurpassed  grandeur,  we  emerged  from  the 
mouth  of  the  last  canyon  and  struck  the 
smooth  rolling  trail.  All  the  way  from  Golden 
we  were  going,  it  seemed,  on  the  wings  of 
the  wind  and  were  landed  in  Denver  on 
scheduled  time. 


CHAPTER  IV 
DENVER   IN    1865 

N  THAT  period  Denver  was  appro- 
priately called  the  "City  of  the 
Plains."  Situated  sixteen  miles 
from  the  base  of  the  nearest 
Rocky  Mountain  peak,  and  six 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Atchi- 
son, Kansas,  the  nearest  town  to  the 
East ;  while  seven  hundred  miles  to  the  west 
loomed  up  as  from  the  very  bowels  of  the 
earth,  the  beautiful  city  of  the  Mormons, 
Salt  Lake  City,  Utah.  The  nearest  forts — 
two  hundred  miles  distant — were  Fort 
Cottonwood  to  the  northeast,  Collins  to 
the  north  and  Halleck  to  the  northwest. 
Its  northern  limits  extended  to  the  South 
fork  of  the  Platte  River;  Cherry  Creek 
running  through  one- third,  dividing  it  into 
East  and  West  Denver.  Its  population  num- 
bered about  five  thousand  souls.  Here  was 
to  be  found  the  illiterate  man — but  a  grade 


78  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

above  the  coyote — lawbreakers  of  every  kind 
and  from  every  land,  to  men  of  culture  and 
refinement.  Here  it  stood,  a  typical  mining 
town,  a  monument  to  the  indomitable  energy 
of  man  in  his  efforts  to  settle  that  barren  and 
almost  endless  plain  and  open  to  the  world 
the  Rocky's  unlimited  hidden  gold.  Here 
were  brick  structures  modern  for  that  day, 
the  brick  being  made  from  the  soil  of  the 
territory;  a  United  States  mint,  a  church,  a 
school  house,  large  warehouses,  stores,  and 
the  home  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Daily  News, 
which  kept  one  partially  in  touch  with  hap- 
penings in  the  faraway  states.  Isolated  from 
the  outside  world,  it  was  an  ideal  place  of 
refuge  for  those  anxious  to  escape  the  out- 
raged law.  Knights  of  the  green  cloth  held 
full  sway.  Men  in  every  walk  in  life  gambled. 
A  dead  man  for  breakfast  was  not  an  un- 
common heading  for  the  menu  card,  the  old 
tree  on  the  west  bank  of  Cherry  Creek 
furnishing  the  man.  Society  was  just  a 
little  exclusive  and  to  gain  admission  the 
pass  was,  "Where  are  you  from?"  and  in 
some  cases,  "Your  name  in  the  East." 


\ 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  79 

Desperadoes  made  one  attempt  to  lay  the 
city  in  ashes  and  certainly  would  have 
accomplished  their  purpose  had  it  not  been 
for  the  timely  action  of  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee in  hanging  the  ring-leaders.  When 
the  guilt  of  a  suspect  for  any  crime  was 
in  doubt,  he  was  presented  with  a  horse  or 
mule  and  ordered  to  leave  between  sun  and 
sun  and  never  return.  During  my  four  years 
of  residence  in  Denver  there  was  but  one 
Indian  scare  and  it  made  a  lasting  impression 
on  the  tablet  of  my  memory.  A  church  bell 
pealed  forth  the  warning  over  the  thirsty 
desert  of  an  Indian  attack.  Business  places 
were  closed,  the  women  and  children  were 
rushed  to  the  mint  and  warehouses  for 
protection,  armed  men  surrounded  the  city, 
pickets  on  horseback  were  thrown  out  in 
every  direction.  Couriers  kept  thundering 
back  and  forth  between  picket  line  and  those 
in  command  and  others  were  despatched 
to  the  different  Forts  for  assistance  that 
never  came.  A  look  of  determination  stood 
out  on  the  face  of  every  one  and  not  a  man, 
from    clergyman    to    desperado,    within    the 


80  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

confines  of  the  city  who  would  not  willingly 
have  given  up  his  life's  blood  to  protect  the 
honor  of  the  women  and  lives  of  the  little 
ones.  For  three  weary  days  and  the  same 
number  of  nights  the  terrible  suspense  lasted, 
but  no  Indian  came.  It  was  a  false  alarm. 
Denver,  in  its  early  settlement,  was  never 
attacked  by  the  Indians  except  in  isolated 
cases.  The  only  reason  that  I  ever  heard 
given  for  their  not  doing  so  was  that  they 
knew  not  their  strength,  for  there  was  no 
time  in  the  sixties  that  they  could  not  have 
swooped  down  on  the  place,  massacred  all 
and  buried  the  little  mining  town  in  ashes. 

SECURED  WORK   AGAIN 

For  a  young  man  to  obtain  work  other 
than  oxen  or  mule  driving,  we  wrere  told, 
was  simply  impossible.  Not  being  deterred, 
however,  by  this  discouraging  information 
we  at  once  started  out  to  secure  work. 
Board  was  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  in 
gold,  and  you  had  to  furnish  your  own  sleep- 
ing quarters,  so  not  to  secure  work  at  once 
would  quickly  reduce  our  wealth.     We  had 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  81 

called  on  nearly  all  of  the  business  places, 
when  my  chum  secured  a  position  with  a 
grocer  and  freighter.  As  for  myself,  I  re- 
ceived little  encouragement  but  finally  called 
at  a  large  restaurant  where  I  was  offered 
work.  I  told  the  proprietor  it  was  a  little 
out  of  my  line,  but  he  told  me  that  if  I  could 
not  find  a  position  to  suit  me,  I  should  walk 
in  at  any  time,  pull  off  my  coat  and  go  to 
work,  which  I  did  three  days  later.  About 
the  tenth  day  the  proprietor  told  me  his 
lease  expired  and  that  the  man  who  owned 
the  building  was  going  to  conduct  the  busi- 
ness. He  came  in  that  afternoon,  and  I 
was  introduced  to  him.  Before  leaving  he 
stepped  into  the  office  and  informed  me 
that  he  wanted  a  man  next  to  him;  or,  in 
other  words,  an  assistant  and  that  the 
former  proprietor  had  given  me  a  good 
recommend  and  he  thought  that  I  would 
suit  him.  He  made  me  a  tempting  offer  and 
I  accepted.  The  restaurant  was  located  on 
Blake  street,  one  of  the  then  principal  busi- 
ness streets  of  the  city,  and  kept  open  until 
early  morning  as  did   the  gambling  places 


82  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

in  the  immediate  vicinity.  I  soon  discovered 
that  the  new  proprietor  could  neither  read 
or  write  and  that  he  conducted  one  of  the 
largest  private  club  rooms  in  the  city  where 
gambling  was  carried  on  without  limit.  He 
paid  me  a  large  salary  and  allowed  me  every- 
thing my  wild  nature  craved.  I  had  charge 
of  the  entire  business  as  well  as  his  bank 
account. 

The  restaurant  was  the  headquarters  of 
nearly  all  oxen  and  mule  drivers  and  also 
of  the  miners  who  came  from  the  mountains 
in  winter,  and  were  of  the  toughest  type  of 
men  of  that  day.  All  professional  oxen 
and  mule  drivers  after  making  one  round 
trip  to  the  river  and  points  in  the  far  Western 
territories  were  paid  off  in  Denver  and  many 
of  them  would  deposit  with  me,  for  safe 
keeping,  a  large  share  of  their  dangerously 
and  hard  earned  dollars.  They  would  then 
start  out  to  do  the  town,  now  and  then 
taking  a  chance  at  one  of  the  many  gambling 
games,  always  returning  for  more  money, 
which  I  would  give  them;  and  this  they 
would  continue  until  all  was  expended  ex- 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  83 

cept  enough  to  keep  them  a  week,  when  sober, 
and  a  commission  for  doing  the  business, 
for  which  I  was  careful  to  look  out.  An 
individual  who  bore  the  name  of  "One  Eye 
Jack"  boarded  with  us  and  I  could  always 
depend  upon  him  in  time  of  trouble.  His 
vocation  for  a  long  time  was  a  mystery, 
until  one  evening,  as  I  was  passing  down  a 
side  street,  he  popped  out  from  an  alley 
and  with  uplifted  blackjack  would  have 
felled  and  robbed  me  had  he  not  recognized 
the  unearthly  yell  I  gave.  I  forgave  him, 
and  afterwards  he  doubled  his  energies  to 
protect  me  and  on  more  than  one  occasion 
saved  my  life.  When  in  his  professional 
clothes  he  was  a  tough  looking  customer 
and  could  fight  like  a  bull  dog.  He  was 
always  liberally  supplied  with  someone  else's 
money.  Yet  with  all  his  bad  traits,  his 
word  was  as  good  as  his  gold;  but  like 
other  similar  individuals  that  infested  Denver 
at  that  time,  he  finally  went  to  the  end  of 
his  tether,  and  was  presented  by  the  Vigilance 
Committee  with  a  hemp  collar  that  deprived 
him  of  his  life. 


84  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Before  his  demise,  however,  a  party  of 
ten  tough-looking  individuals  entered  the 
restaurant  and,  in  forceful  language,  de- 
manded the  best  the  country  offered  in 
eatables  and  drink.  My  friend,  or  would- 
be-murderer,  was  in  at  the  time  and  I  noticed 
a  look  of  cunning  pleasure  steal  over  his 
rough  countenance.  The  strangers  were  dres- 
sed in  corduroy  trousers,  velveteen  coats, 
slouch  hats  and  black  ties.  Their  shirts 
and  collars  of  red  flannel  made  a  conspicuous 
appearance  and  caused  their  undoing  later. 
After  seeing  them  well  cared  for,  I  returned 
to  the  office  and  calling  Jack  inquired  his 
opinion  of  the  gents. 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "I  may  be  mistaken 
but  I  will  just  bet  you  a  ten  spot  they 
are  road  agents. "  "Yes/'  I  said,  "I  am 
inclined  to  agree  with  you,  but  keep 
mum." 

You  may  think  it  strange  I  did  not  give 
this  bold  highwayman  away;  but  life  in 
those  days  was  swTeet  and  I  had  no  desire 
to  have  that  young  life  taken  so  I  followed 
Commanche  Bill's  advice  and  strictly  minded 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  85 

my  own  business.     If  I   had  not,   I   would 
not  be  living  today. 

HIGHWAYMEN   OF   THE   WEST 

Two  mornings  later  on  entering  for  break- 
fast one  of  the  band  had  his  head  done  up 
in  a  bandage.  From  words  he  dropped 
I  was  satisfied  that  Jack  or  one  of  his  cronies 
had  been  improving  their  spare  time  by 
relieving  him  of  his  over  abundance  of  gold. 
The  reckless  manner  in  which  they  dis- 
posed of  their  money  and  their  conversa- 
tion when  flushed  with  wine  betrayed  their 
true  characters  and  stamped  them  a  murder- 
ous band  of  mountain  highwaymen  who 
had  made  their  headquarters  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  the  Rockies,  near  the  overland 
mountain  trail  and  there  devoted  their  time 
to  holding  up  stage  coaches,  compelling 
the  driver  with  a  shot  from  a  carbine  to 
halt,  descend,  disarm  and  be  quiet.  The 
passengers  were  then  ordered  to  alight  and 
stand  in  a  row,  continually  being  covered 
with  guns  by  a  part  of  the  band  and  by 
others    relieved    of    their    personal    effects. 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  87 

Then  the  stage  coach  was  systematically 
gone  through  together  with  the  Wells  Fargo 
&  Co's.  safe,  which  often  contained  gold 
into  the  thousands.  These  hold-ups  were 
not  infrequent  and  were  the  fear  of  all  who 
were  obliged  to  pass  through  these  canyons 
of  robbery  and  often  death.  The  bunch 
that  we  harbored  were  undoubtedly  as  bold 
a  band  of  robbers  and  murderers  as  ever 
infested  the  silent  caves  of  the  Rockies. 
Could  their  dingy  walls  but  talk  they  would 
reveal  crimes  unspeakable.  I  knew  there 
were  many  strangers  in  town  and  was  almost 
certain  their  every  movement  was  watched; 
nor  was  I  mistaken.  The  seventh  day  after 
their  arrival  a  young  school  teacher  whom 
I  knew  by  sight  called  at  the  restaurant 
and  inquired  by  name  for  one  of  the  band. 
I  asked  if  he  knew  him.  He  replied,  no 
more  than  that  he  had  met  him  in  one  of 
the  corrals  of  the  city  and  had  been  offered 
free  passage  to  the  States  if  he  would  do 
their  cooking.  I  told  him  of  my  suspicions 
and  all  I  knew  about  them  and  advised 
him  not  to  go  with  them,   but  like  many 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  89 

others  he  gave  no  heed.  Two  days  later 
they  were  missed  at  meal  time.  The  next 
morning  word  came  by  courier  that  the 
entire  band  including  the  school  teacher 
were  dangling  by  the  neck  from  the  branches 
of  cottonwood  trees  twelve  miles  down  the 
Platte  River  with  their  pockets  inside-out 
and  outfits  gone.  Thus  was  meted  out 
innocent  and  guilty  alike  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee justice,  which  was  not  of  uncommon 
occurrence. 

Mr.  Pembroke  secured  a  position  at  Black 
Hawk,  Colorado,  in  the  year  1865,  with  the 
first  smelter  works  erected  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  He  was  employed  in  the  separat- 
ing department  where  sulphur  was  freely 
used,  and  he  inhaled  much  of  the  fumes 
emitted  therefrom,  which  was  the  direct 
cause  of  a  severe  illness. 

He  fought  retirement  for  a  long  time, 
but  was  finally  forced  to  give  up. 

The  latter  part  of  February,  1886,  he 
arrived  in  Denver  on  his  way  to  his  home 
in  Geneva,  N.  Y.,  but  remained  with  me 
at    the   restaurant   for   ten   days   where   he 


90  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

was  cared  for  and  given  the  best  of  medical 
aid  available  in  those  days. 

He  finally  prevailed  on  a  mule  freighter 
to  take  him  as  a  passenger  to  Atchison, 
Kansas.  Arriving  at  Fort  Carney,  Nebraska, 
he  had  a  relapse  and  was  ordered  by  the 
Commander  of  the  Fort  to  be  placed  in  the 
Army  Hospital  for  treatment,  where  he 
remained  until  able  to  continue  his  journey 
by  stage  to  Atchison,  thence  by  rail 
home. 

He  left  Colorado  with  the  full  determina- 
tion of  returning  on  recovering  his  health. 
A  mother's  influence,  however,  changed  his 
plans  and  he  finally  decided  to  remain  in 
the  East.  He  purchased  a  grocery  business 
and  conducted  it  with  great  success  until 
his  death,  March  17th,  1910.  By  his  strict 
attention  to  business,  square  dealing,  genial 
disposition  and  original  wit,  he  gained  the 
confidence  and  respect  of  his  fellow-men. 
He  was  buried  in  St.  Patrick's  cemetery  in 
his  home  city  where  a  surviving  sister  has 
caused  to  be  erected  an  appropriate  and 
costly  monument  to  his  memory. 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  91 

NEW   EMPLOYMENT 

I  remained  with  the  restaurant  keeper  one 
year,  when  through  the  assistance  of  influen- 
tial men  that  boarded  at  the  restaurant, 
I  secured  a  position  with  a  grocer.  Shortly 
after  entering  his  employ  I  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  an  ex-army  officer,  a  graduate 
of  West  Point  and  a  well  educated  man, 
who  afterwards  became  my  boon  companion. 
At  that  time  he  was  an  ex-pork  merchant 
from  Cincinnati;  an  eccentric  old  fellow 
without  chick  or  child,  and  with  plenty 
of  money  to  loan  at  3%  a  month.  He  owned 
a  large  warehouse  on  Cherry  Creek  in  West 
Denver  where  he  slept  and  did  his  own 
cooking.  His  evenings  were  passed  at  the 
store  and  many  were  the  nights  that  we  told 
stories  and  otherwise  enjoyed  ourselves.  He 
was  a  silent  member  of  the  firm  and  I  was 
wise  enough  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  him. 
During  that  time  the  head  of  the  firm  ran 
for  Congress  on  the  Democratic  ticket.  Such 
an  election  I  never  want  to  see  or  go  through 
again.  Large  wagons  loaded  with  barrels 
of  all  kinds  of  liquor  on  tap  were  driven  from 


92  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

poll  to  poll.  Many  more  ballots  were  cast  in 
each  precinct  than  there  were  voters  and 
by  night  nearly  the  entire  male  portion  of  the 
inhabitants  were  a  drunken,  howling  mass. 
The  outcome  of  the  election  resulted  in  the 
Governor  giving  the  Democratic  nominee  the 
certificate  of  election;  the  Secretary  of  the 
territory  favoring  the  Republicans.  The 
Governor  left  the  city  that  night  and  never 
returned.  The  contest  terminated  in  a  Re- 
publican Congress  seating  the  Republican 
candidate,  and  Andrew  Johnson — then  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States — appointing  the 
Democratic  candidate  Governor  of  Colorado. 
A  year  from  that  time  General  Grant  was 
inaugurated,  and  shortly  afterwards  the  Gov- 
ernor's head  went  into  the  basket  and  mine 
fell  on  the  outside. 

On  another  occasion  there  was  to  be  a 
prize  fight  at  Golden  City,  sixteen  miles 
from  Denver.  My  friend,  the  ex-pork  mer- 
chant, I  could  see  was  anxious  to  attend 
but  did  not  wish  to  lower  his  standard  of 
dignity  by  doing  so,  so  the  subject  was  not 
mentioned  save  in  a  casual  way  until  the 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 


93 


morning  of  the  fight,  when  he  entered  the 
store,  puffing  and  blowing,  stamping  the 
floor  with  his  hickory  cane  and  mopping 
his  crimson  brow  with  an  old-fashioned 
bandana  handkerchief,  said  "Charley,  let's 
go  to  that  infernal  fight.  I  don't  approve 
of  it,  but  let's  go." 

"All  right,"  I  said.  I  was  in  for  any 
kind  of  sport. 

AN  EXPERIENCE  IN  MULE    RIDING 

I  left  everything,  locked  the  store  and 
started  out  to  procure  a  rig,  but  found 
there  were  none  to  be  had  for  love  or  money. 
The  only  article  of  propulsion  we  could  hire 
were  saddle  mules.  Both  quickly  mounted 
and  on  a  slow  trot  started  for  the  ring.  We 
had  been  there  less  than  an  hour  when  both 
of  us  became  thoroughly  disgusted  and  started 
on  the  return  trip.  When  about  seven  miles 
from  Denver  and  going  at  a  lively  pace — 
for  a  mule — the  Major's  animal  stiffened 
both  front  legs,  and  placing  his  hoofs  firmly 
in  the  sandy  road,  permitted  the  Major's 
chunky  little  body  to  pass  over  his  head 
and  through  space  for  about  ten  feet,  land- 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 


95 


ing,  with  much  force,  on  his  stomach.  The 
old  fellow  was  an  artist  at  curse  words  and 
the  more  I  laughed  the  more  he  cursed. 
He  was  a  sprightly  little  fellow  and  on  gain- 
ing his  feet  grabbed  for  the  bridle,  but 
Mr.  Mule  shook  his  head,  made  a  side  step, 
and  the  devil  could  not  have  caught  him 
again  until  he  reached  the  barn.  I  dis- 
mounted and  with  much  difficulty  my  friend 
scrambled  into  my  saddle,  with  myself  on 
behind.  But  my  long-eared  critter  objected 
and  the  fun  commenced.  He  bunted  and 
kicked.  All  of  a  sudden  his  hind  quarters 
rose  and  like  lightning  his  long  lanky  legs 
shot  high  into  the  air.  First,  I  went  off, 
and  on  gaining  a  sitting  position  with  mouth, 
ears  and  eyes  full  of  sand,  I  witnessed  a 
spectacle  befitting  the  clumsiest  bareback 
rider  on  one  of  their  first  lessons.  The 
old  Major  had  both  arms  affectionately 
entwined  around  the  mule's  thick  neck  and 
was  hanging  on  with  desperation.  Up  and 
down  went  the  hind  quarters  of  that  unkind 
brute,  bunting  and  kicking,  the  Major's 
little  body  keeping  taps  with  the  ups  and 


96  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

downs  and  every  time  he  caught  his  breath 
he  let  out  a  war  whoop  that  would  do  credit 
to  a  Commanche  brave.  The  old  mule 
finally  dumped  him  all  in  a  heap  and  followed 
his  mate  to  Denver.  Such  an  appearance 
as  both  presented,  each  blaming  the  other 
for  our  misfortune  and  vowing  we  would 
never  be  caught  at  another  prize  fight. 
Lame,  bruised,  and  crestfallen,  we  walked 
the  remainder  of  the  way  into  Denver. 
Each  cautioned  the  other  to  say  nothing 
of  our  misfortune ;  but  the  two  Mauds  had  car- 
ried the  news  ahead,  and  we  were  the  laugh- 
ing stock  of  the  town  for  the  next  nine  days. 
At  another  time  I  was  attending  a  per- 
formance in  the  "Old  Languish  Theater," 
when  from  the  stage  I  was  informed  I  was 
wanted  in  the  bar  room  of  the  building, 
a  necessary  adjunct  to  all  western  theaters 
in  those  days.  Upon  entering  I  was  taken 
by  the  hand  by  one  of  those  trusty  and 
warm-hearted  stage  drivers  of  the  plains 
and  Rockies,  and  told  that  my  chum  had  been 
caught  in  one  of  those  treacherous  mountain 
snow  storms  on  the  Catchla   Purder  River 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  97 

two  miles  above  La  Port  and  was  badly- 
frozen,  and,  if  he  didn't  receive  medical  aid 
at  once,  could  not  survive.  I  left  the  theater 
at  once  and  commenced  preparing  plans  for 
the  trip.  I  started  unaccompanied  the  fol- 
lowing afternoon  at  2:30  o'clock  on  a  one 
hundred  fifty  mile  ride. 

A   RIDE   IN   A   STORM 

My  conveyance  was  a  long  old-fashioned 
buggy.  The  buggy,  which  was  well  filled 
with  straw,  blankets,  medicine,  grub,  and 
a  commissary  bottle,  had  two  good  road- 
sters hitched  in  front  to  wheel  me  to  the 
rescue  of  my  friend  or  to  an  ignominious 
death.  I  had  not  only  Indians  to  fear,  but 
the  treacherous  elements.  The  trail  ran 
close  along  the  base  of  the  mountains.  It 
was  a  lovely  May  day.  I  was  obliged 
to  make  thirty-two  miles  that  night  to 
reach  cover.  Less  than  half  of  the  distance 
had  been  traveled  when  the  wind  veered 
suddenly  to  the  north,  mild  at  first,  then  a 
hurricane  of  anger,  roaring  and  blowing 
with  such  force  as  to  nearly  upset  the  buggy. 


98  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

Dark  clouds  gathered  and  floated  around 
those  silent  peaks  of  ages.  Lightning  darted 
hither  and  thither  among  the  stalwart  pines, 
which  were  creaking,  bending  and  crashing. 
Clap  after  clap  of  thunder  pealed  through 
and  from  those  dismal  canyons,  vibrating 
between  Nature's  slopes  of  granite,  quartz 
and  rock.  The  din  was  fearful,  rain  fell 
at  first,  then  turned  to  snow.  Just  before 
it  became  dark  I  adjusted  the  front  piece 
of  the  buggy.  My  compass  was  useless. 
I  urged  my  faithful  steeds  to  faster  speed, 
and  at  the  same  time  gave  them  the  rein. 
As  I  did  so,  they  left  the  trail.  Cold  and 
chilled  to  the  marrow  or  very  bone,  I  took 
frequent  drafts  from  the  commissary  bottle, 
and  fought  with  all  my  power  against  sleep, 
but  it  was  useless. 

On  gaining  partial  consciousness  two  squaws 
were  bending  over  me  rubbing  me  with  all 
their  Indian  strength  and  a  third  forcing 
something  warm  down  my  throat.  Men, 
rough  of  dress,  were  smoking  and  playing 
cards.  Revolvers,  chips  and  gold  was  in  front 
of   each,    with    plenty   of   the   latter  in  the 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 


99 


center  of  the  table.  I  knew  not  if  they 
were  friends  or  mountain  highwaymen. 
Many  claim  that  horses  are  dumb  brutes 
with  no  instinct,  but  that  faithful  pair  on 
leaving  the  trail  avoided  a  long  bend  and 
made  straight  for  the  adobe  stage  ranch, 
sixteen  miles  away.  On  reaching  it,  they 
ran  the  buggy-pole  through  the  only  opening 
of  that  mud  shack  rousing  the  inmates  to 
action  and  bringing  me  to  safety. 

The  large  Concord  coach  filled  with  pas- 
sengers soon  arrived  from  Denver,  and  owing 
to  the  severity  of  the  storm,  put  up  for  the 
night.  The  time  was  passed  in  smoking, 
drinking  and  playing  cards.  At  six  o'clock 
the  next  morning  the  coach  pulled  up  at 
the  door.  The  storm  was  over,  but  not 
the  wind.  The  cold  was  intense.  My  team 
soon  came  up,  but  their  ears  and  noses  were 
badly  frost  bitten  and  otherwise  showed 
the  effects  of  the  storm.  I  followed  the 
coach  but  for  a  short  distance  only,  as  the 
snow  which  was  drifting  badly  obliterated 
the  trail.  The  six  black  horses  on  the 
coach  were  too  much  for  my  two  bays  and 


ioo  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

soon  left  me  far  in  the  rear.  My  compass 
had  been  lost  and  by  noon  I  was  back  at  the 
ranch  I  had  previously  left,  the  horses 
having  made  nearly  a  complete  circle  with- 
out my  knowledge.  I  secured  another  com- 
pass and  at  nine  o'clock  that  evening  rolled 
into  La  Port,  a  city  of  adobe  ranches,  and 
stage  station,  where  I  put  up  for  the  night. 
(A  place  of  two  or  three  houses  in  those  days 
was  called  a  city.)  I  was  informed  that 
my  chum  was  two  miles  up  the  river  and 
in  bad  shape.  The  next  morning  I  was  up 
at  day  break.  After  grub  I  started  and 
found  my  companion  quartered  in  a  little 
old  log  cabin  at  the  base  of  the  mountains, 
and  being  cared  for  by  an  aged  squaw  and 
her  daughter — the  old  buck  being  out  caring 
for  the  cattle.  My  chum  had  encountered 
the  same  kind  of  a  storm  as  his  rescuer, 
and  unable  to  find  his  way  was  obliged  to 
remain  out  the  entire  night  and  only  one 
hundred  feet  from  the  cabin.  Both  of  his 
feet  were  badly  frozen.  The  Indians  had 
done  everything  possible  for  him.  The 
daughter,    for    an    Indian,    was    extremely 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 


IOI 


pretty,  and  I  soon  discovered;  fcliat  she,  was 
very  much  taken  with,  my  chum.  I  applied 
the  remedies  which  I  had  brought.  Tli6n 
the  little  Indian  maiden  bundled  him  up, 
and  with  the  promise  that  he  would  return 
they  parted. 

We  were  at  once  off  on  the  return  trip  and 
arrived  at  the  stage  ranch,  where  I  was 
cared  for  the  previous  night  at  just  six 
o'clock.  On  driving  up  to  the  door  of  the 
station  all  three  of  the  reaches  of  the  buggy 
broke  and  gently  dropped  us  to  the  ground. 
Fortunately  there  was  a  blacksmith  con- 
nected with  the  station  and  I  assisted  him 
through  the  long  night,  forging  reaches  and 
repairing  the  buggy.  At  daylight  we  were 
off,  reaching  Denver  in  safety  at  3:30  that 
afternoon  and  making  the  trip  in  just  three 
days. 

Both  of  my  chum's  feet  had  to  be  ampu- 
tated at  the  insteps.  He  was  very  grateful 
and  quite  conscious  of  the  fact  that  true 
friendship  still  existed. 

Before  leaving  the  governor's  employ,  I 
accompanied   a   mule   train    of   ten   wagons 


102  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

with  [suppl  ri  the  Ute  tribe  of  Indians 

who.lived  in -one  of.  the  parks  of  the  mountains 
in  the  vicinity  of 'Pike's  Peak.  Thelites, 
at  that  particular  time,  were  on  friendly 
terms  with  the  white  men  as  there  was  a 
treaty  of  peace  existing  between  them  and 
the  Government. 


CHAPTER  V 
A   PROOF   OF   MARKSMANSHIP 

E  TOOK  with  us  a  Mr.  Baker, 
who  was  conceded  to  be  one 
of  the  best  guides,  hunters, 
trappers  and  interpreters  of 
that  day,  with  a  heart  as 
large  as  an  American  bison, 
and  as  tender  as  a  child's.  But  when  his  anger 
was  aroused  by  danger  or  treachery,  the 
very  devil  seemed  to  possess  him;  he  had 
the  courage  of  a  lion,  and  was  a  dead  shot. 
We  had  been  friends  for  a  long  time,  and 
on  more  than  one  occasion  he  had  proved 
a  true  one. 

The  park  was  an  ideal  summer  resort, 
an  extended  plateau  with  acres  of  fresh 
green  grass,  wild  flowers,  and  virgin  soil. 
In  the  center  was  a  beautiful  lake,  its  ice 
cold  water  well  stocked  with  the  finny  tribe 
of  speckled  mountain  trout,  the  delight  of 
the  angler.  The  park  was  inclosed  by  moun- 
tains   of    great    height    and  grandeur,  their 


104  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

rocky  slopes  were  dotted  with  spruce,  pine, 
and  cottonwood,  and  capped  with  ages  of 
crystal  snow,  presenting  a  sight  more  pleas- 
ing to  the  eye  than  the  Falls  of  Niagara, 
and  a  perfect  haven  for  an  Indian  maiden's 
love  dream. 

We  had  been  in  camp  but  a  few  days  when 
Mr.  Baker  informed  me  that  the  young 
bucks,  as  the  men  of  the  tribe  were  called, 
wanted  us  to  join  in  shooting  at  a  target. 
After  Mr.  Baker  and  myself  had  made  a 
few  bull's  eyes,  they  proposed  we  two  should 
choose  sides,  and  we  did  so.  The  teams 
were  very  evenly  matched,  making  the  game 
interesting.  In  the  meantime,  I  had  been 
presented  to  the  chief  in  true  Indian  fashion 
and  in  turn  was  made  known  by  him  to  his 
squaw,  young  bucks  and  maidens.  The  In- 
dians had  ther  tribal  laws  and  customs  as 
well  as  the  white  man  and  were  required 
to  live  up  to  them.  The  maidens  were 
two  in  number,  their  ages  fourteen  and 
seventeen  moons  respectively;  the  latter  a 
picture  of  Indian  beauty,  perfect  in  every 
feature,    form    and    carriage,    a   rare   model 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 


105 


for  an  artist.  They  were  nearly  always 
found  together.  At  first  they  were  quite 
reserved,  but  finally  we  became  fast  friends; 
we  would  ramble,  hunt,  fish  from  canoes 
and  sail  the  placid  waters  of  the  little 
lake. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth  day 
Mr.  Baker  entered  my  tent  with  a  troubled 
look.  I  bade  him  good-morning  and  in- 
quired the  cause.  Without  fencing,  he  asked 
me  if  I  wanted  to  be  a  squaw  man.  I  asked 
him  what  the  devil  he  was  getting  at. 


AN   OFFER   OF   MATRIMONY 

He  replied,  "All  there  is  to  it,  the  old 
chief  has  taken  a  great  liking  to  you,  and 
wants  you  to  marry  Weenouah,  his  oldest 
daughter.  He  has  plenty  of  money,  and 
his  horses  and  cattle  run  into  four  figures/ ' 

"That  is  no  inducement,"  I  said,  "and 
it  could  never  be.' ' 

Mr.  Baker  asked,  "How  are  you  going  to 
get  out  of  it?" 

I  replied,  "I  have  been  in  lots  of  tight 
places,    as    you    know,    and    have    always 


io6  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

managed  to  squeeze  through,  and  I'll  get 
out  of  this  one  in  some  way. 

Little  did  either  of  us  dream  at  that  time 
of  the  manner,  or  rather  the  sacrifice,  that 
one  of  us  was  doomed  to  bear,  for  me  to 
escape  the  wrath  of  the  old  chief,  when 
informed  I  would  not  marry  his  daughter. 
Fate  decreed  he  was  never  to  be  so  in- 
formed, but  instead,  a  most  cruel  and 
unfortunate  accident  was  to  provide  the 
means. 

That  afternoon  the  young  bucks  were 
again  anxious  to  test  their  skill  at  the  target. 
We  all  used  the  same  carbine,  which  con- 
tained seven  cartridges,  one  in  the  gun  bar- 
rel and  six  in  a  magazine  in  the  butt  of  the 
gun.  Mr.  Baker  and  I  always  tossed  up 
a  pebble  to  see  who  had  first  shot.  As 
Mr.  Baker  won  the  first  chance,  he  took 
aim  and  pulled  the  trigger  and  such  an 
explosion  as  took  place  will  never  be  for- 
gotten. Everyone  was  stunned  by  its  force. 
When  the  smoke  had  cleared,  poor  Baker's 
body  was  found  lying  on  the  ground  with 
the    lower    jaw    torn    from    its    place.     On 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL 


107 


recovering  from  the  shock  the  young  bucks 
fairly  flew  for  the  Indian  medicine  man. 
I  quickly  reached  the  corral  and  informed 
the  wagon  boss  of  the  accident.  He  at 
once  ordered  the  mules  brought  up.  The 
light  wagon  was  supplied  with  straw,  blankets, 
commissary  bottle  and  grub.  Six  of  the 
fastest  mules  were  hitched  to  the  wagon 
and  selecting  two  of  the  mulewhackers  gave 
instruction  for  his  care  en  route.  I  took 
the  lines  and  quickly  drove  to  the  spot 
where  poor  Baker  had  fallen.  Just  as  soon 
as  the  flow  of  blood  had  been  checked  and 
his  wounds  dressed  we  raised  him  gently 
and  placed  him  in  the  wagon.  Without  a 
word  I  mounted  the  driver's  box  and  drove 
for  all  there  was  in  those  six  mules,  reaching 
Denver  late  the  following  night.  Some  who 
read  this  narrative  may  be  skeptical,  but 
it  is  a  fact,  nevertheless,  that  poor  Baker 
recovered  for  I  saw  him  a  year  later,  but 
he  could  partake  of  liquid  food  only.  The 
once  stalwart  form  of  that  brave  man,  now 
emaciated  and  wasted  to  a^mere  skeleton, 
still  stood  erect. 


io8  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

THE   TOLL   OF   THE   PLAINS 

My  whole  heart  went  out  to  him  who,  in 
years  past,  had  hunted  the  antelope,  deer, 
elk  and  buffalo ;  fought  the  cowardly  savages 
and  desperadoes  on  the  thirsty  plains  and 
amidst  the  ragged  slopes  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains;  penetrated  the  silent  recesses 
of  the  dismal  canyons  and  caves;  crossed 
the  snow  covered  divides;  faced  danger  of 
every  conceivable  nature;  and  at  last,  al- 
though maimed  for  life,  was  grateful  that 
he  had  escaped  death  and  thankful  in  the 
thought  that  he  had  done  his  share  in  the 
settlement  of  the  then  Far  West.  As  I  gazed 
into  his  once  keen  eyes  and  beheld  that  shrivel- 
ed face,  my  heart  wrung  with  remorse,  for  I 
knew  he  had  keenly  suffered.  Tears  filled 
my  eyes  and  trickled  down  my  weather- 
beaten  and  sun-tanned  boyish  face,  and  I 
knew  he  accepted  it  as  an  emblem  of  my 
sorrow  for  being  the  innocent  cause,  in  a 
measure,  of  his  cruel  misfortune.  Thus,  by 
the  flip  of  a  pebble  was  my  life  spared,  but 
at  the  expense  of  a  true  friend. 


CHAPTER  VI 


ON   TO   LEAVENWORTH 

HE  NEXT  summer  I  was  not  very- 
well,  and  so  I  made  a  trip  to 
Leavenworth,    Kansas,     by    the 

Southern    or    Smoky    Hill    route. 

We  made  the  trip  by  mule  train  of 
twenty  wagons  with  six  mules  hitched  to 
each.  The  driver  rode  the  nigh  mule 
and  with  one  line  guided  the  team.  If  he 
wanted  the  leaders  to  go  to  the  right 
he  simply  jerked  fast  or  slow,  depend- 
ing on  how  quick  he  wanted  to  make 
the  turn;  if  to  the  left,  a  steady  or  quick  pull. 
The  Indians  on  this  trail  were  more  numerous 
than  on  the  Platte  and  scarcely  a  day  passed 
that  they  were  not  to  be  seen,  and  continually 
trying  to  drive  off  our  stock.  We  did  not 
receive  any  great  scare  until  we  reached  the 
Big  Blue  River  where  on  the  fourth  day  of 
July  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  large 
Concord  coach  filled  with  passengers  and  a 
small  guard  of  the  United  States  soldiers, 


no  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

which  had  previously  passed  us,  were  await- 
ing our  arrival  before  daring  to  proceed. 
On  reaching  the  crest  of  the  bluff  leading 
to  the  valley  of  the  river  we  saw  hundreds 
of  Sioux  Indians,  in  war  paint  and  feathers, 
camped  on  the  opposite  side  in  the  under- 
brush and  woods,  and  in  the  main  trail 
directly  in  our  path. 

We  at  once  went  into  corral.  Thirty 
men  against  a  horde  of  savages,  if  they  were 
there  to  dispute  our  right  of  progress,  was 
not  a  pleasant  position  to  be  placed  in  nor 
a  fitting  manner  in  which  to  celebrate  the 
glorious  Fourth.  Consultations  were  numer- 
ous and  all  took  part.  The  redskins,  camped 
in  plain  sight,  were  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
evidently  in  council  like  ourselves.  To  the 
right  of  the  trail  was  a  dense  wood  close 
to  the  river  bank;  on  the  left  was  a  high 
perpendicular  bluff,  its  sides  unscalable,  so 
our  route  was  a  genuine  death  trap,  should 
they  attack  us.  After  grub  all  gathered 
in  a  circle  and  with  pipes  we  proceeded 
with  our  last  council.  The  situation  was 
talked  over  from  every  point  as  to  what  the 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  lit 

Indians  might  do  or  might  not  do.  We 
finally  arrived  to  the  conclusion  that  they 
had  the  best  of  us  whatever  move  we  made. 
A  majority  vote  decided  to  proceed  with 
every  man  for  himself  in  case  of  attack. 
Our  wagons  were  empty  which  was  a  little 
in  our  favor  as  we  could  go  on  a  mule  trot 
or  gallop.  The  coach  filled  with  passengers 
was  placed  in  tl^e  lead;  and,  being  the  young- 
est of  the  party,  they  were  considerate 
enough  to  let  me  follow,  and  I  did  so  as 
closely  as  possible.  On  reaching  the  river 
bottom,  the  driver  of  the  coach  started  his 
horses  on  a  run  and  the  lash  was  put  to  every 
mule.  We  were  all  yelling  like  demons 
and  on  our  approach  the  Indians  left  the 
trail  and  took  to  the  river,  thinking  that  we 
were  a  hundred  or  more  strong.  All  passed 
safely  through  that  valley  of  what  might 
have  been  a  horrible  massacre.  The  un- 
earthly racket  we  made  was  undoubtedly 
our  salvation,  but  we  were  not  out  of  danger 
by  any  means  and  continued  our  flight 
until  eleven  p.  m.  when  we  went  into  corral 
for  food  and  rest.     At  three  a.  m.  we  again 


112  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

struck  the  trail  and  it  is  well  that  we  did, 
for  those  blood-thirsty  redskins  laid  death 
and  destruction  in  their  wake  and  came 
very  near  overtaking  us  a  day  later.  Arriv- 
ing at  Leavenworth,  I  boarded  a  Missouri 
River  palace  for  St.  Louis,  thence  to  New 
Orleans. 

A  FALSE   FRIEND 

On  returning  to  St.  Louis,  I  met 
a  Westerner  that  I  knew  only  by  sight,  and 
by  him  was  induced  to  remain  over  a  few 
days  and  take  in  the  city.  I  did  and  was 
scooped.  On  the  third  morning  I  went 
through  rny  pockets  and  the  bed,  piece 
by  piece,  dumping  its  contents  in  the  center 
of  the  room,  but  my  roll  was  gone.  At  once 
I  sought  my  friend,  but  he  was  nowhere  to 
be  found.  Plain  case  of  misplaced  confidence. 
He  had  made  a  touch.  In  my  desperation, 
I  made  a  confident  of  the  caretaker  of  the 
hotel  register.  Being  of  a  sympathetic  na- 
ture, he  consoled  me  with  an  invitation 
to  stimulate,  which  I  did.  Being  without 
a  trunk,  I  was  informed  on  my  arrival  it 
was  customary  to  pay  as  you  enter;    fortu- 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  113 

nately  I  had  a  meal  to  my  credit.  I  was 
in  good  condition,  having  had  sufficient 
victuals  to  last  the  day,  after  which  I  proceed- 
ed to  the  river  front  and  here  discovered  a 
boat  bound  for  Omaha.  I  boarded  her,  sought 
out  the  steward,  and  applied  for  a  position. 
He  replied  that  he  did  not  want  any  help. 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  will  let  a  fellow  work 
his  way,  won't  you?" 

His  answer  was  "Get  off  this  craft/ '  and 
without  further  talk,  in  not  a  very  gentle- 
manly manner  he  assisted  me. 

On  landing,  I  was  mad  clear  through, 
and  made  up  my  mind  I  was  going  on  that 
boat,  and  I  did  go.  Just  before  the  gang 
plank  was  pulled  in  I  walked  on  board, 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  the  steward. 
After  I  had  avoided  him  for  an  hour  and  just 
as  I  was  on  the  point  of  congratulating  my- 
self, I  bumped  into  him. 

"You  on  board?" 

"It  looks  very  much  as  if  I  were  in  evi- 
dence." 

He  grabbed  me  by  the  coat  collar  and 
hustled   me   before   the   captain.     I    told   a 


ii4  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

straight  story,  and  he,  being  a  man,  told  the 
steward  to  take  me  up  to  the  kitchen  and  set 
me  to  work.  He  did,  and  had  his  revenge 
in  seeing  that  it  was  nearly  continuous. 
After  supper  I  worked  the  dish  racket  until 
twelve  o'clock.  At  three  the  next  morning 
he  awoke  me  out  of  a  sound  sleep  and  set 
me  to  cleaning  the  woodwork  of  the  cabin. 
Another  of  my  desirable  duties  was  to  wash 
and  polish  the  silver,  throwing  the  water 
over  the  sides  of  the  boat. 

AN   ALERT   STEWARD 

After  dinner  of  the  second  day  I  proceeded 
with  the  tin  bucket  to  the  side  of  the  boat 
and  overboard  went  its  contents,  including 
three  silver  spoons.  The  spoons  had  no 
sooner  left  the  bucket  than  I  felt  something 
of  great  force  come  in  contact  with  the  seat 
of  my  trousers.  For  a  moment  I  thought 
surely  perpetual  motion  had  been  discovered. 
Turning  I  was  face  to  face  with  that  infernal 
steward.  Nor  did  that  end  my  troubles 
for  during  the  entire  trip  that  particular 
locality  of  my  person  was  the  target  for  that 


DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL  115 

fellow's  boot.  With  a  terrible  oath,  he 
informed  me  that  my  landing  would  be 
reached  about  midnight  a  day  later  and  was 
called  Wood  Pile  Landing.  A  short  time 
before  reaching  the  place,  I  was  hustled 
from  my  bunk  by  the  steward  and  in  no 
gentle  manner  forced  to  the  bow  of  the 
boat.  The  night  was  pitch  dark,  and  pro- 
duced a  decidedly  lonesome  feeling  in  the 
one  that  was  to  be  put  off  at  a  Wood  Pile 
on  the  edge  of  an  immense  forest  and  un- 
doubtedly miles  from  a  dwelling.  As  the 
boat  reached  the  bank,  not  even  waiting  for 
the  gang  plank  to  be  shoved  out,  the  old 
sinner  gave  me  a  push  and  at  the  same  time 
applied  the  now  familiar  boot.  I  reached 
the  earth  on  all  fours.  My  first  thought 
was  to  present  him  with  a  rock,  but  I  curbed 
my  temper,  for  I  had  no  idea  of  deserting 
the  old  ship. 

In  those  days  the  boilers  of  the  boats 
were  fired  with  cord  wood  purchased  of  the 
planters  and  delivered  on  the  bank  of  the 
river.  All  boats  plying  on  the  Missouri 
River  at  that  time  were  flat  bottom  with 


n6  DANGERS  OF   THE  TRAIL 

paddle  wheel  at  the  stern.  Two  long  heavy 
poles  were  carried  at  the  bow  and  worked 
with  a  windlass,  being  used  to  raise  the  bow 
of  the  boat  when  becoming  fast  on  a  sand 
bar.  The  pilot  was  obliged  to  keep  a  con- 
tinuous lookout  for  these  bars,  as  the  chan- 
nel was  treacherous  and  changed  often. 

On  approaching  the  river  bank  one  of  the 
deck  hands  would  jump  off  with  the  bow 
line  and  make  fast  to  a  stump  or  tree,  then 
the  stern  line  was  thrown  to  him  and  similarly 
connected.  Then  the  negro  deck  hands  would 
proceed  to  carry  on  the  wood  on  their  bare 
shoulders  to  the  tune  of  a  Southern  planta- 
tion melody.  When  ready  to  start  the  bow 
line  was  cast  off,  the  paddle  wheel  was  started 
by  the  engine,  and  by  means  of  the  steering 
gear  the  craft  was  swung  out  into  the  stream, 
then  the  stern  line  was  thrown  aship,  and 
the  boat  was  off — but  not  without  the 
steward's  victim.  No  sooner  had  the  colored 
gentlemen  reached  the  deck,  than  I  followed. 
Waiting  until  all  was  quiet  aboard,  I  sought 
my  berth.  The  next  morning  I  proceeded 
with  my  work  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 


DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 


117 


anticipated  the  steward's  next  move  would 
be  to  throw  me  overboard,  and  in  that 
belief  told  the  cook  of  what  he  had  done  the 
previous  night.  At  that  point  he  came  in, 
and  on  discovering  me  said,  "You  here  again,' ' 
his  face  purple  with  rage.  His  right  foot 
at  once  became  restless,  he  made  a  rush  for 
me,  but  the  cook  with  butcher-knife  in  hand 
prevented  the  action  of  said  foot,  and  my 
troubles  with  that  gentleman  were  over. 


ARRIVAL   AT   LEAVENWORTH 

We  soon  reached  Leavenworth,  and  I 
left  the  boat  without  regret,  but  a  much 
wiser  youth.  I  went  to  the  First  National 
Bank  of  Leavenworth,  drew  my  money,  and 
after  a  few  days'  rest,  I  again  embarked  for 
Denver  astride  a  mule.  We  saw  plenty 
of  Indians,  but  as  the  train  was  a  long  one 
they  did  not  molest  us. 

On  reaching  the  city  of  the  plains  I  at 
once  hunted  up  my  old  friend,  the  Major, 
who  introduced  me  to  the  head  of  a  firm  of 
contractors,  who  were  at  that  time  engaged 
in  getting  out  ties  in  the  "Black  Hills,"  for 


u8  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

a  portion  of  the  Union  Pacific  railroad, 
then  under  construction.  He  told  me  that 
he  wanted  a  man  to  go  there  and  straighten 
out  a  set  of  books  that  a  former  employee 
had  left  badly  mixed.  He  also  took  the 
trouble  to  inform  me  that  the  country  was 
alive  with  Indians,  and  that  the  man  who 
went  there  took  big  chances;  and,  if  I  were 
at  all  timid,  I  had  better  not  accept  the 
position.  My  friend  gave  me  a  strong  recom- 
mend and  I  clinched  the  matter  by  telling 
the  gentleman  that  I  was  not  afraid  of  man, 
ghost  or  Indian.  He  replied  that  I  was  just 
the  man  he  was  in  search  of,  and  would  give 
me  five  hundred  dollars  in  gold,  a  good  horse 
and  pay  all  expenses;  that  I  should  get  my 
traps  and  be  at  the  Planter's  Hotel  for  dinner. 
He  expected  his  two  partners  from  the  east 
to  inspect  the  camp  and  business,  and  every- 
thing was  to  be  in  readiness  to  depart  on 
their  arrival.  Our  conveyance  was  a  full 
sized  Concord  coach  with  six  good  mules 
to  draw  it.  The  boot  of  the  coach  contained 
the  best  of  everything  to  eat  and  drink — 
the   latter   being   just   as   essential   in   that 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  119 

country  as  gun  and  ammunition.  The  part- 
ners were  detained  en  route,  and  did  not 
arrive  until  the  second  day,  when  they  wished 
to  rest  and  see  the  western  sights,  so  we  did 
not  leave  until  the  fourth  day.  Two  Denver- 
ites  accompanied  us,  making  six  in  the  party. 

The  first  afternoon  we  made  thirty-two 
miles,  and  camped  near  a  stage  station, 
where  they  keep,  for  the  weary  pilgrims, 
supplies  and  the  rankest  kind  of  corn  juice 
known  to  the  professional  drinker. 

The  following  morning  we  made  an  early 
start,  and  before  noon  rolled  into  La  Port, 
on  the  Cachella  Pondre  River,  the  only 
settlement  on  the  trail  to  the  hills.  We  put 
up  at  the  stage  station  for  the  night.  There 
we  met  a  drover,  and  a  party  of  cow  boys 
with  one  thousand  head  of  California  bron- 
chos bound  for  the  States.  Those  cowboys 
were  as  wild  as  western  life  could  make  them, 
yet,  a  jolly  good  lot. 

During  the  evening,  at  the  suggestion  of 
someone,  a  poker  game  was  started  which 
lasted  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  those 
who  had  indulged  in  the  game  were  not  feel- 


120  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

ing  any  too  good — especially  the  losers — 
but,  nevertheless,  they  all  strolled  over  to 
the  large  adobe  corral  to  see  our  party  off. 
Mr.  A — ,  the  head  of  the  firm  of  contractors, 
had  his  large  winnings  safely  concealed  in 
a  chamois  bag  placed  close  to  his  hide,  where 
all  wise  men  of  the  West  carried  their  money 
in  those  days. 

The  drover  had  been  a  heavy  but  good 
loser.  When  about  ready  to  hitch  up  our 
mules  he  called  out  to  Mr.  A — ,  'Til  go  you 
six  of  my  best  bronchos  against  five  hundred 
dollars  that  you  haven't  a  man  in  your  outfit 
that  can  drive  the  d — d  brutes  a  mile  and 
return/* 

The  contractor  approached  me  and  asked 
if  I  thought  I  could  do  it.  I  told  him  that 
I  was  willing  to  take  the  chance. 

Without  another  word  he  walked  over 
to  where  the  drover  was  standing  and  in- 
formed him  that  he  would  take  the  bet, 
provided  he  would  have  his  cowpunchers 
hitch  the  little  devils  to  the  coach. 

" Agreed,' '  shouted  the  old  fellow  in  no 
uncertain  language. 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  121 

The  boys  turned  to  the  work  with  a  will; 
for  the  fun  expected,  even  if  I  received  a 
broken  neck  for  my  daredevil  recklessness, 
excited  them  to  the  highest  pitch. 

The  reader  has  undoubtedly  seen  in  the 
Wild  West  circuses  the  old-fashioned  over- 
land coach  hung  by  heavy  springs  from  front 
to  rear  axle.  One  of  the  most  uncomfortable 
conveyances  to  ride  in  ever  invented,  espec- 
ially for  the  driver,  for,  if  the  coach  was  not 
heavily  loaded,  when  the  front  wheels  dropped 
into  a  hole  the  old  ramshackle  thing  was 
liable  to  topple  over  on  the  animals;  and, 
if  the  driver  was  not  securely  strapped  to 
the  seat  when  the  rear  wheels  reached  the 
hole,  he  would  land  some  distance  in  the 
rear.  The  contractor  had  the  old  ark  properly 
balanced  before  starting,  so  I  had  no  excuse 
to  worry  from  that  source. 

The  cowpunchers  selected  one  broncho 
each  and  after  a  half  hour's  hawling,  pulling 
and  coaxing  succeeded  in  hitching  them  to 
the  coach.  I  climbed  to  the  seat  and 
was  securely  strapped  with  a  large 
leather    apron.     Then    I    gathered    up   the 


122  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

lines    and     placed    myself    solidly    for    the 
start. 

The  whip  socket  contained  a  hickory  stick 
five  feet  long  with  a  lash  twelve  feet  in  length 
attached  to  one  end.  I  gave  the  word  to 
let  them  go,  but  the  little  bronchos  thought 
different  and  balked.  The  number  of  times 
they  bucked  and  threw  themselves,  started 
and  bucked  again,  would  be  impossible  to  say. 
Finally  the  contractor  accused  the  drover 
of  being  in  collusion  with  his  cowpuncher 
in  order  to  win  the  wager  by  holding  the 
bronchos  back  and  a  volley  of  words  of  not 
very  mild  character  ensued,  after  which  the 
six  cowboys,  three  on  either  side  of  the  team, 
stood  off  six  feet.  The  noise  made  by  the 
cracking  of  their  whips  their  everlasting  yelp- 
ing made  the  excitement  stronger  than  be- 
fore, and  I  was  off  on  the  wildest  ride  I  ever 
took.  A  hurdle  jumper  would  not  stand 
much  of  a  chance  with  one  of  those  wild 
bronchos. 

A    DANGEROUS   RIDE 

It  was  a  lovely  June  morning  and  the  brac- 
ing air  of  Colorado  made  me  feel  as  wild  as 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  123 

the  young  animals  that  were  fast  wheeling 
me  over  the  dangerous  trail  and  possibly 
into  a  camp  of  hostile  Indians.  I  gave  no 
thought  to  danger  for  I  was  too  busy  keeping 
the  fiery  little  beasts  to  the  trail.  They 
were  going  at  breakneck  speed  with  no  sign 
of  tiring,  so  I  let  them  go  enjoying  the  sport 
even  more  than  they.  My  hat  went  flying 
with  the  wind,  I  looked  back,  but  could  not 
see  the  ranch.  How  far  I  had  left  it  behind, 
or  what  distance  I  had  covered,  I  knew  not. 

At  last  I  came  to  myself  and  realized  for 
the  first  time  what  terrible  danger  I  was  in. 
Slowly  turning  the  team  to  the  right,  I  began 
a  circle,  hardly  perceptible  at  first,  but 
finally  again  reaching  the  trail.  On  the 
return  trip,  I  plied  the  long  lash  to  the  lead- 
ing pair.  They  shot  forward  faster  than 
ever,  all  steaming  with  foam  and  covered 
with  lather.  At  a  great  distance  to  the  south 
I  could  see  a  party  of  Indians  riding  in  the 
same  direction.  This  additional  danger  seem- 
ed fairly  to  intoxicate  me  and  I  plied  the 
whip  with  all  my  strength.  The  corral 
loomed  up  and  then  the  stage  station.     The 


124  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

others,  with  hands  in  their  pockets  and  mouth 
agap,  were  holding  their  breath;  and,  as  we 
wheeled  past  them,  the  cowboys  lashing 
the  bronchos,  a  mighty  shout  went  up.  I 
had  won  the  wager  and  was  the  lion  of  the  day. 

We  did  not  make  a  start  until  the  follow- 
ing morning.  We  fastened  the  bronchos 
together  and  tied  the  leader  to  the  rear 
of  the  coach,  and  thus  resumed  our  journey 
to  the  hills,  where  we  safely  arrived  two  days 
later,  but  minus  four  of  the  treacherous 
brutes.  At  night  we  always  picketed  them 
with  the  mules  and  the  four  that  were  lost 
had  pulled  their  picket  irons  and  undoubtedly 
gone  to  join  the  much  read  of  "wild  horses 
of  the  plains/' 

The  camp  in  the  hills  consisted  of  shanties 
for  fifteen  hundred  men,  saw  mill,  and  outfit 
store.  The  latter  included  in  its  stock  plenty 
of  the  best  kind  of  liquor.  Each  man  was 
allowed  three  drinks  a  day  and  no  more. 

I  had  the  books  straightened  out  in  due 
time  and  one  day  the  contractor  discovered 
he  would  soon  be  out  of  flour,  and  the  nearest 
point  at  which  it  could  be  purchased  was 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  125 

La  Port,  seventy-five  miles  distant.  The 
Indians  were  troublesome,  and  each  man 
who  was  asked  refused  to  go,  with  one  excep- 
tion. The  contractor  finally  made  me  a 
tempting  offer  to  accompany  a  driver  of  a 
six  mule  team.  I  accepted,  and  at  break 
of  day  the  next  morning  we  started.  My 
companion  on  that  dangerous  trip  was  a 
plucky  son  of  the  Emerald  Isle.  We  camped 
that  night  on  Lodge  Pole  Creek.  On  the 
opposite  side  was  an  adobe  ranch,  and  an 
immense  stockade  owned  by  a  Frenchman 
with  a  Sioux  squaw  for  a  wife. 

In  our  hurried  start  we  had  forgotten  our 
tobacco,  and  without  it  my  companion  seemed 
lost.  After  grub  I  mounted  my  horse,  and 
crossed  over  the  creek  to  procure  some.  On 
making  my  wants  known,  I  was  freely  sup- 
plied with  tobacco,  and  was  also  informed 
that  before  we  arrived  they  had  been  fighting 
the  Indians  for  some  time;  that  one  of  the 
cowboys  had  an  arm  badly  shattered;  and 
that  they  feared  another  attack  the  next 
morning.  I  returned  to  camp  and  told  my 
companion  of  our  danger. 


126  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

A   WELCOME   HAVEN 

After  giving  the  animals  plenty  of  feed 
and  rest,  we  again  took  the  trail  at  4:30  a.  m. 
As  the  day  dawned,  with  the  aid  of  a  field 
glass,  I  discovered  Indians  swooping  down 
on  the  ranch  with  the  stockade  at  break- 
neck speed,  and  others  coming  in  our  direc- 
tion. I  told  Patrick  to  urge  the  mules  to 
a  gallop.  He  suspected  the  cause  and  did 
so  at  once.  Over  the  rolling  ground  we  flew 
until  the  sun  was  well  up  in  the  heavens,  and 
as  each  hour  passed  the  redskins  gained  on 
us,  until  at  last  they  could  be  seen  with  the 
naked  eye.  The  harsh  and  cruel  war-whoop 
of  those  blood-thirsty  savages  echoed  and 
re-echoed  back  from  the  distant  hills,  and 
over  the  desolate  plains  until  men  and  beasts 
were  crazed  to  desperation.  The  lash  was 
put  to  the  already  tired  mules,  and  we 
strained  every  nerve  to  reach  the  crest  of  the 
next  knoll,  hoping  against  hope  for  succor. 
On  they  came,  their  warwhoops  for  scalps 
and  the  white  man's  blood  was  now  con- 
tinuous. The  long  feared  report  of  their 
rifles  was  at  last  heard;    bullets  pierced  our 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  127 

canvas  covered  wagon.  We  made  a  last 
desperate  effort  and  reached  the  summit 
of  the  bluff.  Not  a  half  a  mile  from  its  base 
was  a  large  corral  of  white  covered  wagons. 
Down  the  incline  we  flew,  looking  neither  to 
the  right  nor  the  left,  and,  on  reaching  the 
corral,  both  men  and  beasts  fell  into  a  heap 
exhausted. 

The  red  devils  rode  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  the  warwhoop  of  anger  they  sent  up  rings 
in  my  ears  at  times  to  this  very  day. 

That  evening  we  again  took  the  trail  and 
made  the  remainder  of  the  trip  by  night 
drives.  Reaching  La  Port  the  third  morn- 
ing, we  secured  our  load  and  after  giving 
the  animals  a  much  needed  rest  we  started 
on  the  return  trip.  The  fourth  morning  we 
arrived  at  the  ranch  with  the  stockade. 
Three  mornings  after  we  reached  the  foot  of 
the  hills  where  the  company  had  a  log  cabin 
for  their  hunters  and  trappers,  who,  with 
their  trusty  rifles,  furnished  antelope,  deer 
and  buffalo  meat  for  their  small  army  of 
employees.  On  entering,  a  sight  met  our 
gaze   too   revolting  to   pass   from   memory. 


128  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

Upon  the  earthy  floor  lay  two  of  those 
sturdy  and  warm-hearted  dwellers  of  the 
plains  and  rockies,  cold  in  death,  scalped 
and  mutilated  almost  beyond  recognition — 
a  deed  committed  by  those  dastardly  red 
fiends  of  the  Far  West.  Both  were  friends  of 
mine  and  with  uncovered  head,  in  the  presence 
of  that  gritty  son  of  old  Ireland,  I  vowed 
vengeance. 

"At  least,  Charlie"  said  Patrick,  "Let's 
give  them  a  decent  burial  and  move  on." 

We  did  so,  reaching  camp  that  evening 
just  as  the  sun,  with  its  beautiful  tints  of 
carmine,  was  bidding  plains  and  hills  good- 
night, as  if  in  memory  of  those  stalwart  and 
brave  men  who  made  the  settlement  and 
civilization  of  the  West  possible. 


r» 


CHAPTER  VII 
A   PLUCKY  GERMAN 

WO  WEEKS  later  a  strap- 
ping six-foot  German,  who 
was  in  charge  of  another  camp 
further  down  the  line,  came  for 
a  visit.  Shortly  after  his  arrival,  he  proposed 
that  we  should  go  hunting,  to  which  I  agreed. 
That  morning,  as  usual,  the  men  called 
for  their  liquor,  and  among  them  was  a  long 
lanky  fellow  with  red  hair  and  bushy  beard. 
He  certainly  had  the  appearance  of  an  out- 
law. He  had  received  one  glass  of  grog  and 
came  for  the  second  which  I  refused  him. 
Without  a  word  I  was  on  my  back.  At  that 
point  the  German  came  in  and  caught  him 
with  the  left  hand  in  the  same  locality. 
Suffering  with  pain  and  crazed  with  liquor, 
he  left  the  store,  secured  his  revolvers  and 
returned.  I  was  behind  the  counter  at  the 
time  with  my  back  to  the  door.  The  first 
thing  I  knew  I  heard  the  report  of  a  revolver 
and  a  bullet  whizzed  past  my  ear  and  buried 


130  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

itself  in  a  can  of  tomatoes  not  six  inches 
from  my  head.  As  I  turned  around,  I  saw 
the  fellow  being  propelled  through  the  door 
by  the  German's  right.  At  that  point  the 
contractor  came  in  and  after  being  told  of 
what  had  happened,  he  discharged  the  fellow. 
He  wished  to  retain  his  revolvers,  but  his 
request  was  not  granted.  He  had  an  old- 
fashioned  army  musket  and  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  keep  that.  I  told  Mr.  A —  not 
to  let  him  have  it  for  I  was  satisfied  from  the 
blow  he  gave  me  that  he  was  a  bad  actor; 
but  Mr.  A — ,  being  good  natured  and  kind 
hearted,  consented.  He  ordered  four  days' 
rations  put  up  for  him  and  he  left  camp  in 
an  ugly  mood  and  was  given  no  further 
thought. 

After  grub,  the  German  proposed  that  we 
flip  a  coin  to  see  who  should  go  for  the  horses. 
The  visitor  losing,  he  at  once  started  for 
the  canyon  below  where  the  horses  were 
grazing.  Shortly  after  I  heard  a  shot  and 
then  many  more,  but  gave  it  no  heed  as  it 
was  a  common  occurrence  there.  Half  an 
hour  later  one  of  the  men  came  in  and  told 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  131 

me  that  the  German  lay  dead  in  the  canyon 
below.  I,  with  the  others  in  camp,  proceeded 
to  the  point  indicated,  where  we  found  the 
poor  fellow  lying  on  his  back.  A  bullet 
from  that  villian's  musket  had  pierced  his 
heart.  His  watch,  belt  of  cartridges,  revol- 
vers, and  repeating  carbine  were  gone.  After 
we  returned  with  the  body,  Mr.  A —  had  the 
mill  whistle  blown  calling  all  hands  to  quarters 
and  for  three  days  and  nights  with  little 
sleep  or  rest  we  searched  those  hills  and 
trails  leading  to  Salt  Lake  and  Denver. 
We  picketed  men  on  each  trail  to  search  all 
passing  trains;  but  the  demon  gave  us  the 
slip,  and  cheated  that  maddened  crowd 
of  a  lynching,  or  something  worse;  perhaps 
a  tug  of  war  between  two  wild  bronchos, 
which  we  had  in  camp,  with  that  man's 
body  as  the  connecting  link. 

I  can  to  this  day  remember  just  how  that 
poor  fellow  looked;  cold  in  death,  far  from 
home  and  loved  ones,  with  no  mother  to 
weep  at  his  bier.  With  uncovered  heads 
we  lowered  him  in  earth,  in  a  rough  box, 
at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  tall  sentinels  of  the 


132  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

hills,  and  placed  a  slab  to  mark  the  spot, 
that  his  friends  might  some  day  claim  all 
that  remained  of  as  brave  and  honest  a 
German  as  ever  lived. 

A   WATCHFUL    PROVIDENCE 

Thus  by  the  toss  of  a  coin  was  my  life 
again  spared.  This  last  narrow  escape  from 
death  was  the  fourteenth  of  which  I  positively 
knew,  and  how  many  more  that  I  did  not 
know  of,  it  is  impossible  to  tell ;  so  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  get  out  of  the  country  alive,  if 
possible.  I  informed  Mr.  A —  of  my  inten- 
tions and  the  following  day  closed  my  busi- 
ness and  at  dusk  that  evening  I  started, 
unaccompanied,  on  a  two  hundred  mile  ride 
over  a  trail  watched  by  hundreds  of  blood- 
thirsty Indians.  I  knew  that  no  Indian 
pony  could  overtake  my  fleet  runner,  and  all 
that  was  to  be  feared  was  a  surprise  or  have 
my  horse  shot  from  under  me.  I  camped 
far  from  the  trail,  with  lariat  fastened  to 
my  wrist,  never  closing  my  eyes  until  my 
faithful  animal  had  laid  down  for  the  day. 
His  first  move  at  dusk  awoke  me,   and,  after 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  133 

feed,  we  were  off  with  the  wind  at  breakneck 
speed. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  day,  while  I  lay 
sleeping  on  the  desert  sands  with  the  saddle 
blanket  for  a  pillow,  and  dreaming  of  my 
far  away  home,  it  seemed  as  if  something  of 
a  slimy  nature  was  slowly  crawling  over  the 
calf  of  my  bare  leg.  On  gaining  partial 
consciousness,  too  quickly  did  I  realize  that 
it  was  a  reality  and  not  a  dream.  A  rattle- 
snake's long  slimy  body  was  crossing  that 
bridge  of  flesh,  squirming  along  for  a  couple 
of  inches,  then  raising  its  repulsive  body  a 
foot  or  more  and  turning  its  insignificant 
head,  would  look  straight  towards  my  partly 
closed  eyes  and,  with  its  hideous  mouth 
agap,  would  dart  its  poisonous  arrow-like 
tongue  in  and  out  like  lightning,  then 
lowering  itself,  it  would  resume  the  same 
tactics  as  before.  How  many  times  it  re- 
peated this,  I  shall  never  know.  No  words 
have  ever  been  formed  that  can  adequately 
express  the  feeling  that  took  possession  of 
me.  I  seemed  powerless  to  move  a  muscle 
or    twitch    an    eye-lid.     The    suspense    was 


134  DANGERS  OF   THE   TRAIL 

terrible,  expecting  each  time  that  the  slimy 
body  descended  the  viper  would  thrust  his 
poisonous  lance  into  my  leg  and  all  would 
be  over.  The  horror  of  it  all  cannot  be 
imagined,  and  to  this  day,  when  I  recall  the 
incident,  it  sends  a  shiver  through  my  entire 
body.  As  the  coarse  rattles  of  his  tail  left 
the  bare  flesh  of  my  leg,  my  senses  seemed 
to  return;  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment, 
for  through  the  pant  of  my  right  leg  I  felt 
that  same  crawling  sensation  and  I  knew  in 
an  instant  that  it  was  a  mate  following  the 
one  that  had  just  passed  over  the  bridge  of 
flesh.  As  soon  as  it  reached  the  bare  leg 
the  dirty  reptile  went  through  the  same 
horrible  stunts  as  the  first  one.  The  agony 
seemed  impossible  to  bear  and  when  at  last 
the  thing  had  completed  its  journey  and  was 
at  a  safe  distance  away,  I  leaped  into  the 
air — how  far  I  shall  leave  the  reader  to  sur- 
mise. Crazed  with  anger  and  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  I  rushed  for  my  revolvers 
and  fired  at  random.  I  was  considered  a 
good  shot  in  those  days,  but  in  this  excited 
condition  I  would  not  have  been  able  to  hit  a 


136  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

barn.  I  ran  for  my  Henry  Carbine  and, 
grasping  it  by  the  barrel,  made  short  work 
of  ridding  the  earth  of  the  cause  that  had 
produced  the  most  terrifying  scare  experience 
during  my  western  life. 

THE  FAITHFUL   HORSE 

For  the  first  time  during  the  excitement 
my  thoughts  turned  to  my  faithful  horse, 
but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  horror 
of  the  situation  began  to  dawn  upon  me  and 
I  realized  at  once  that  I  was  lost  on  that 
desolate  plain — one  hundred  miles  from  any 
camp  that  I  knew  of  and  apparently  alone. 
I  cried  out,  "My  God,  what  can  be  done!" 
The  thought  was  enough  to  drive  one  crazy. 
Can  I  ever  forget  it?  I  think  not;  nor  could 
anyone.  Even  to  see  or  talk  to  an  Indian 
would  have  been  a  comfort.  Driven  to 
agonizing  despair  I  ran  for  my  field  glass  and 
scanned  the  rolling  ground  in  every  direction. 
Buffalo,  deer,  antelope,  coyote,  and  a  small 
party  of  horsemen  were  visible,  but  the 
latter  too  far  away  to  make  out  if  they  were 
United  States  Cavalrymen  or  Indians.    Look- 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  137 

ing  again,  without  my  glass,  I  discovered  my 
horse  standing  on  a  high  knoll  not  more  than 
a  half  mile  away  with  head  and  tail  erect; 
the  breath  from  his  dilated  nostrils  ascending 
heavenward  in  the  cold  October  air  and 
presenting  a  picture  for  an  artist.  I  called 
loudly,  "Billie,  Billie"  and  with  outstretched 
hand  walked  slowly  toward  him,  but  he  looked 
not  in  my  direction.  All  of  a  sudden  he 
made  a  quick  bound  and  was  off.  My  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating.  A  minute  seemed 
an  hour;  but  I  kept  walking  after  him  and 
he  finally  stopped,  turned  around  and  faced 
me.  That  look  can  never  be  forgotten. 
With  ears  thrown  back,  he  came  slowly 
toward  me.  Again,  I  called  "Billie,  Billie," 
and  held  out  both  hands  and  with  a  whinner 
he  came  on  a  gallop,  trembling  in  every 
muscle,  seemingly  as  frightened  as  myself. 
I  patted  his  neck,  straightened  out  his  rich 
heavy  mane,  rubbed  his  face  and  nose  and 
kissed  him.  He  licked  my  cheek  and  hand 
in  appreciation  of  my  welcome;  moisture 
gathered  in  his  large  eyes  and  I  cried  with 
joy — like  a  child  that  I  was — and  then  we 


l38  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

both  felt  better.  I  coiled  up  the  lariat 
and  placed  my  right  arm  over  his  perfectly 
formed  neck  and  slowly  walked  to  our  little 
camp.  I  rubbed  him  down  until  he  was 
perfectly  dry;  then  curried,  brushed  and 
rubbed  until  I  could  almost  see  myself  in 
his  coat  of  silky  hair.  Then  I  made  him  lay 
down  and  did  the  same  thing  myself,  using 
his  withers  and  mane  for  a  pillow.  When 
I  awoke  the  moon  shown  full  in  our  faces. 
I  patted  his  neck  and  soon  those  large  eyes 
were  looking  affectionately  into  mine.  I 
sprang  to  my  feet"  and  he  did  the  same. 
After  brushing  off  the  side  on  which  he  had 
laid,  I  placed  the  saddle  blanket,  buckled 
taut  the  saddle,  gathered  up  my  small  camp 
kit  and  fastened  it  to  the  rear  of  the  saddle, 
coiled  the  lariat  and  hung  it  on  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle,  fastened  on  my  spurs — from 
which  he  had  never  felt  even  the  slightest 
touch — threw  my  field  glass  over  my  left 
shoulder,  buckled  on  my  cartridge  belt  and 
revolvers,  swung  my  canteen  and  Henry 
Carbine  over  my  right  shoulder,  and  with  a 
leap,  landed  astride  the  saddle,  and  was  off 


DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL  139 

with  the  wind  in  search  of  the  trail  two  full 
miles  away. 

THE   INDIANS   CAPTURE   A  FRIEND 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  I 
stopped  at  a  stage  station,  where  I  met  the 
assistant  wagon  boss  who  was  with  the  bull 
train  during  my  first  trip  across  the  plains. 
He  was  a  genuine  Missouri  Bushwacker 
and  a  desperate  fellow.  Like  all  others 
of  his  class  he  wore  his  hair  long,  making  it 
a  much  coveted  prize  for  the  Indians.  After 
the  days  visit  and  relating  our  experience 
of  western  life,  he  told  me  that  he  was  on 
his  way  to  the  Black  Hills.  I  reluctantly 
volunteered  the  information  to  him  that  I 
did  not  think  he  would  ever  reach  there  on 
the  old  skate  he  was  riding,  and  that  he 
should  not  venture  on  the  trail  until  after 
dark,  but  he  knew  it  all  and  started  at  sun- 
down. I  was  sure  the  fellow  would  never 
reach  the  Hills,  nor  was  I  mistaken,  for 
in  less  than  an  hour  the  Salt  Lake  Coach 
rolled  up  to  the  door  of  the  station,  and  the 
driver  asked  if  a  horseman  had  put  up  at 


i4o  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

the  place,  and  being  informed  that  there 
had,  told  us  the  Indians  had  captured  him 
and  tied  him  to  one  of  their  own  ponies 
and  was  rapidly  going  north,  leaving  his  old 
nag  to  be  picked  up  by  any  one  who  would 
care  for  it.  Not  a  day  passed  that  the  un- 
welcome savages  were  not  to  be  seen,  and 
we  were  chased  many  times,  but  the  faith- 
ful animal  reached  Denver  in  safety. 

The  Union  Pacific  railroad  had  then  reached 
Julesburg  and  I  conceived  the  hazardous 
idea  of  reaching  that  point  by  navigating 
the  Platte  River — a  distance  of  three  hun- 
dred miles — so  I  at  once  ordered  a  flat  bot- 
tomed boat  built  of  material  in  the  rough. 

A   CUNNING   SCHEMER 

I  next  went  in  quest  of  my  aged  chum, 
the  ex-pig  dealer,  who,  when  found,  revealed 
by  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  another  dare-devil 
scheme,  which  he  was  quite  capable  of  con- 
cocting when  alone  in  his  warehouse  den. 
He  exclaimed,  with  much  feeling  and  a 
forced  tear,  that  he  was  right  down  glad  to 
see  me  safely  back  and  gave  me  little  rest 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  141 

until  I  had  related  my  experiences  in  the 
hills.  He  then  unfolded  his  diabolical  scheme, 
whereby  both  of  us  could  lay  a  foundation 
for  a  fortune.  I  was  in  need  of  the  latter, 
without  any  question,  but  not  by  this 
method. 

Cheyenne  had  just  been  surveyed,  mapped 
and  laid  out,  and  the  proposition  was  for 
him  to  furnish  a  man,  two  mule  teams, 
wagons,  tents,  provisions  and  all  other  neces- 
sities; and  this  man  and  myself  were  to 
go  there  and  squat  or  take  possession  of 
two  sections  of  Government  land,  consist- 
ing of  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  each, 
located  just  outside  the  city  limits.  The 
offer  was  promptly  rejected,  and  it  destroyed 
the  last  particle  of  friendship  that  had 
existed  between  us  as  far  as  I  was  concerned. 
I  had  just  been  through  that  part  of  the 
country  and  had  narrowly  escaped  death 
many  times,  and  for  us  to  carry  out  this 
scheme,  I  knew  would  be  impossible,  for 
the  tricky  redskins  would  be  certain  to 
capture  us.  I  cannot  recollect  the  exact 
reply  that  I  made  him,    but  am  positive  I 


1 42  DANGERS   OF   THE   TRAIL 

requested  him  to  go  to  Hades  by  the  shortest 
possible  route.  We  parted  in  anger  after 
three  long  years  of  friendship.  The  old 
major's  love  for  the  almighty  dollar  was  the 
cause.  I  never  did  have  a  very  strong  desire 
to  furnish  material  to  the  cruel  savages  for 
one  of  their  home  scalp  dances,  and  besides 
my  mind  was  made  up  to  leave  Colorado, 
which  I  did. 

I  afterwards  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
young  fellow,  a  college  graduate  who  had 
been  unable  to  secure  a  position  to  his  liking 
and  was  anxious  to  return  to  the  States. 
After  a  few  days  of  good  fellowship,  and 
finding  him  of  the  right  material,  I  made 
my  plans  known  to  him.  He  at  once  fell 
in  with  them,  and  a  week  later  we  embarked 
on  our  perilous  journey.  We  started  at  full 
moon  drifting  with  a  comparatively  strong 
current  using  paddles  to  guide  our  roughly 
constructed  craft.  We  made  nightly  rides 
of  about  fifty  miles,  and  at  dawn  would  land 
on  one  of  the  small  islands  of  the  river, 
conceal  ourselves  and  the  boat  in  the  tall 
grass  from  which  we  were  able  to  see  all 


144  DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL 

that  passed  by  trail  and  bluffs,  and  not  be 
seen  ourselves.  Our  greatest  danger  was 
in  being  discovered  by  the  Indians  on  the 
high  bluffs,  or  a  visit  from  them  to  the  island 
we  occupied.  The  first  scare  we  had  was 
when  a  party  of  a  dozen  or  more  rode  to  the 
bank  of  the  river  for  the  purpose,  as  we 
supposed,  of  crossing.  They  seemed,  how- 
ever, undecided  as  to  their  course,  but  finally 
urged  their  ponies  down  the  bank  and  into 
the  river.  To  describe  our  feelings  would 
be  impossible.  Just  then,  to  us,  a  minute 
seemed  an  hour.  Cold  beads  of  perspira- 
tion stood  out  on  both,  not  exactly  from 
fear,  but  a  sort  of  yearning  to  be  elsewhere; 
and  I  wondered,  after  all  that  I  had  passed 
through,  if  I  was  to  be  cut  down  on  my  home- 
ward journey  by  those  fiendish  red  devils. 
4 'Saved!"  whispered  my  friend,  "they  are 
leaving  the  river."  And  sure  enough  those 
little  prairie  ponies  were  climbing  the  bank 
on  a  dead  run  for  the  bluffs. 

The  last  night  of  that  eventful  ride  lasted 
long  until  after  the  sun  was  up.  The  large 
Concord  coach  filled  with  passengers  passed 


DANGERS  OF  THE  TRAIL  145 

close  to  the  river  bank  a  short  time  before, 
and  from  the  driver  we  learned  we  were  ten 
miles  from  Julesburg.  We  proceeded,  keep- 
ing close  to  the  bank,  and  with  field  glass 
continually  swept  the  valley  and  bluffs  in 
every  direction.  We  were  facing  a  mild 
and  depressing  wind.  All  of  a  sudden  dismal 
sounds  reached  our  ears,  and  as  the  noiseless 
current  of  the  river  rounded  the  projecting 
points  in  its  banks,  it  bore  our  staunch  old 
craft  to  a  place  of  safety,  or  ourselves  to  a 
cruel  death,  we  knew  not  which.  The 
sounds  became  more  distinct  until  both  of 
us  were  satisfied  that  the  Indians  had  cap- 
tured the  overland  coach  with  its  load  of 
human  freight.  As  we  rounded  the  next 
bend  the  river  took  a  straight  course,  but 
there  was  no  island  in  sight. 

"No  island  in  sight,"  said  my  friend. 
"Where  can  we  go?"  And  turning  around 
I  discovered  he  was  as  white  as  a  sheet.  As 
for  myself,  I  was  hanging  to  the  edge  of  the 
bank  trying  hard  to  collect  my  wits  and 
recover  from  a  fainting  spell.  We  finally 
managed  to  get  the  boat  back  and  around 


146  DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 

the  bend  where  we  lay  concealed  for  some 
time,  suffering  the  torture  of  Hades.  I 
finally  crawled  to  the  top  of  the  bank  and 
with  field  glass  surveyed  the  locality  in  every 
direction.  No  life  was  visible,  still  the 
unearthly  noise  kept  up,  and  the  feeling  of 
those  two  lone  travelers  would  be  impossible 
to  describe.  The  thought  at  last  came  to 
me  that  we  must  be  somewhere  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  old  California  Crossing.  I  crawled 
back  to  the  boat  and  told  my  companion  to 
go  ahead,  while  I  continually  used  the  field 
glass.  After  fifteen  minutes,  I  discovered 
a  white  speck  in  the  eastern  horizon.  We 
were  soon  over  our  fright,  and  with  light 
hearts  were  sailing  over  the  rippling  waters 
of  the  old  Platte  feeling  assured  that  we  would 
soon  reach  a  place  of  safety,  as  far  as  the 
Indians  were  concerned. 

On  arriving  at  the  crossing,  which  it  proved 
to  be,  we  found  one  of  those  large  white 
covered  prairie  schooners  stalled  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  and  fifty  Greasers,  as  the 
Mexican  drivers  were  called,  and  as  many 
yoke  of  oxen  trying  to  haul  it  out. 


DANGERS   OF  THE   TRAIL  147 

FAREWELL   TO   THE   PLAINS 

We  sailed  merrily  along  and  at  two  p.  m. 
reached  Julesburg,  the  then  terminus  of  the 
Union  Pacific  railroad  and  overland  shipping 
point  for  all  territory  west,  north  and  south. 
The  Union  Pacific  railroad,  when  under 
construction,  made  a  terminus  every  two  or 
three  hundred  miles.  The  houses  were  built 
in  sections,  so  they  were  easily  taken  apart, 
loaded  on  flat  freight  cars,  and  taken  to  the 
next  terminus  completely  deserting  the  former 
town.  Julesburg  was  rightfully  named  "The 
Portable  Hell  of  the  Plains/ '  My  finer 
feelings  cannot,  if  words  could,  attempt  a 
description.  Suffice  to  say  that  during  the 
three  days  we  were  there  four  men  and  women 
were  buried  in  their  street  costumes.  The 
fourth  day  we  boarded  a  Union  Pacific  train 
and  were  whirled  to  its  Eastern  terminus, 
Omaha,  thence  home,  arriving  safely  after 
an  absence  of  four  years. 

The  habits  formed  during  those  western 
years  were  hard  to  change,  and  the  fight  of 
my  life  to  live  a  semblance  of  the  proper  life, 
required  a  will  power  as  irresistible  as    the 


148 


DANGERS  OF  THE   TRAIL 


crystal  quartz  taken  from  the  lofty  snow- 
capped mountain  sides,  taking  tons  of  weight 
to  crush  it,  that  the  good  might  be  separated 
from  the  worthless. 


TmSB0°^D«ar-STDATE 

SiSStL*"1 0F  25  CEN^s 

TH,S  BOOK  o^THE  D°AT/A"-URE  TO  ""URN 
W.LL  INfflW,  to  S™?=E-  THE  PENALTY 
OAY  AND  TO  «[0oo°0CNENTTHSE0^J,^  «>URTH 
OVERDUE.  ™E    SEVENTH     DAY 


-26Utf64M- 


Tl 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


